The Office: Spring Fever
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Now Complete. When the flu attacks Dunder Mifflin, Jim and Pam are the only ones left to go on an important training road trip. The two of them alone for three days? What could possibly happen? AU, set Season 2. Romance, humor, drama. Rated T/M for adult content, language
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This was inspired by Pam's _Lecture Circuit_ trip with Michael later in season 5, but I wondered how things might have gone had Pam gone with Jim earlier, like in Season 2. This takes place sometime after _Booze Cruise_ and _The Secret_, but before _Casino Night_, and definitely swerves toward the AU.

**SpringFever **

**Chapter 1**

Pam stopped just inside the office doors and stifled a yawn. Roy had been up all night coughing, and she'd finally gotten him quiet after coaxing him to take a large dose of nighttime cold medicine. He was such a baby when he was sick, didn't want to take medicine or go to the doctor, didn't want his temperature taken, yet he would lay in bed and groan dramatically, calling on her to wait on him hand and foot. She'd almost stayed home with him, but Michael had called her at home and said he too was sick to come in too, and she felt obligated to at least come in to the office for a while, open things up, make a call to Corporate for him.

Roy had tested positive for the flu the day before, when she'd insisted he go to the doctor since he felt so awful and his forehead was burning up, and she'd encouraged Michael to go to the doctor as well. When she asked Michael if he needed someone to go with him, he'd said his mom was coming by, and maybe Jan, he'd said hopefully. Pam secretly doubted the latter.

"Guess our road trip is cancelled," he'd said over a coughing fit.

"Yeah," she replied, sharing his disappointment.

She and Michael had been scheduled to tour the branches of Dunder Mifflin and give them training Michael had learned from a recent seminar in Atlanta. Pam would act as his assistant. The training was for a new sales method that was guaranteed to increase sales by up to ten percent, and Corporate had spent a lot of money for their top sales people in the company to attend, then spread their knowledge to the other branches. Given Scranton was the company's top branch for sales, Michael, Dwight and Jim had been sent to the seminar and put up in a posh hotel for three days. Two weeks later, and she was still being regaled (mainly by Michael) with stories from their fun times in The Old South, as Michael called it. Of course, every story was exaggerated and told with a southern drawl she was pretty sure sounded more like Texas than Georgia. Jim had assured her that the so-called _fun times_ had been drinks in the hotel bar and the fancy buffet each day at lunch, and maybe a swim in the hotel's heated pool.

In the breakroom right after the trip, Michael had also hinted to everyone how he'd hooked up with a hot hotel receptionist, and Dwight had only grinned secretly when Michael nudged him to tell about his own sexual exploits. She didn't miss how Angela had frowned, confirming to Pam that there might be trouble in paradise for the secret lovers. Jim, of course, had claimed he'd stayed in his room every evening watching basketball games on TV. Pam believed him. She suspected he hadn't dated since breaking up with Katie on the booze cruise a couple months before, and she supposed he must be nursing a broken heart (though personally, she'd never really seen much chemistry between them).

At any rate, Pam was genuinely disappointed that she and Michael wouldn't be going on the training tour now. She would have been paid overtime (which she could really use for her upcoming wedding), and plus, it would be nice to get out of the office and see some new places, since she and Roy didn't travel much. The fact that she'd be in a car three days with Michael certainly had its drawbacks, but she had become an expert at handling him over the past few years. She knew how to placate him with food, or talk him down from whatever anxiety attack he was having, or boost his ego when he was feeling depressed. It would have been worth it to get a sort of mini vacation for a few days. Too bad, she thought morosely.

She'd just turned on her computer when the phone rang. It was Dwight, who sounded decidedly stuffy, nose-wise.

"Tell Michael I won't be in today. Something's come up on the farm—I uh, have a cow that's about to calf." She heard a muffled cough, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Are you sick, Dwight? The flu is going around, you know. Michael and Roy are both out, and one other guy from the Warehouse."

"Of course not. I have the immunity system of ten ordinary men. The flu has no chance against—_cough cough_-Schrute white blood cells."

She rolled her eyes heavenward. "Okay…but if there _is _a chance you have it, go to a doctor and get some anti-viral meds. Don't come in until you're fever free for at least twenty-four hours. We don't want an epidemic here."

"Whatever, _Doctor Pam_," he said sarcastically, and hung up.

By now, more employees were coming in, including Jim, who greeted her with his usual affectionate eyes and deep-voiced _good-morning,_ that always made her heart flutter, a fact which she always tried dutifully to ignore. But ever since she'd learned he'd had a crush on her, every little thing he did seemed to affect her senses more, seemed to make them more…amplified. Jim hung up his coat and took his messenger bag to his desk, turning on his computer like he did every other day, and she tried not to admire how nice he looked in a suit, how good he always smelled.

"Hey. You're not feeling sick, are you?" she asked.

"Nope. I got my flu shot, remember? Same day you did when the mobile health van parked outside back in November."

She nodded. "Yeah, that's right. Michael's afraid of needles, so he didn't get one, and Dwight refused because he's suspicious of public health care, and besides, Schrutes apparently _never_ get sick. Roy is sick too now. I begged him to take the time to get a shot, but he didn't."

"Oh, Roy has the flu? So that's why you didn't come back yesterday after lunch."

"Yeah."

The phone rang again, and this time is was Meredith. Another addition to the flu brigade, which unfortunately included her children.

"Crap," Pam murmured.

"What is it?" Jim asked in concern.

"That makes five out with the flu."

Everyone left in the audience heard her and began discussing whether they'd have to shut down the office.

"What's the policy on that, Toby?" Oscar asked the Human Resources officer, just as he passed Accounting on his way to the Annex. No surprise everyone was hoping for a day or two off.

"I think we don't shut down unless fifty percent are out. I'll double check the manual, maybe call Corporate for instructions."

Angela took out a can of Lysol and began spraying around her desk, then made a tour of the office, hitting door knobs, the copy machine, and other common areas. "As safety officer," she announced loudly when she returned to the bullpen, "let me remind you of the proper way to cough." She demonstrated, coughing into the crook of her elbow. "Also, wash your hands, people, and use that hand sanitizer I issued everyone at the start of flu season. If you feel sick, go to the doctor, and don't come back till you're over whatever plague God has cursed you with."

Jim and Pam's eyes met, and they grinned in shared amusement.

Pam's phone rang again, and this time it was David Wallace from Corporate.

"You and Michael all set for the sales training tomorrow?" he asked in his usual pleasant manner.

"Oh, David, I was just about to call you. Michael is out with the flu. I was going to ask if I should start calling the other branches to cancel."

"Damnit! Seriously? Sorry, Pam; I know it's not your fault, and I really am sorry Michael is sick, of course. It's just that we spent a lot of money on this training, and it took some major planning to get all the branches to find time for their salespeople to be available for training at the right time…"

"Oh, I get it, David. The timing is really terrible."

He was quiet on his end a moment, then: "Hey, Dwight or Jim could handle it, I bet. They both went to Atlanta with Michael."

"Well, Dwight is sick too, but Jim is here. You want to talk to him?"

"Yeah, transfer me to him if you don't mind. Thank you, Pam."

At mention of his name, Jim glanced at Reception, and he sat up in his chair in preparation to talk to the boss.

"Hi, David," Jim said. Pam watched and listened with interest, her heart rate increasing at the ramifications of their conversation began to occur to her. If Wallace designated Jim to replace Michael on this training tour, that might mean she would be assisting _Jim_.

A road trip with Jim. For three days. _Alone_.

_Oh, my God._

Her thoughts immediately strayed to Roy. Roy, home fighting the flu, while she went off with her handsome best friend and stayed at hotels with him, ate every meal with him…_alone_.

Roy had trusted her on the trip with Michael, because he was well, _Michael,_ but she wasn't so sure what he'd say about Jim. He'd always hinted only half-joking that Jim might be gay or something, and he knew they were close friends. She wasn't so sure he'd approve under the circumstances. She swallowed, wondering how she was going to handle this quandary. David Wallace was counting on her, she knew, especially now since everything had been turned around. She watched as Jim hung up the phone with a sigh.

"Guess I've been drafted," he said, his expression neutral. He walked over to her desk so they could speak more privately.

"Can you be ready by tomorrow?" she asked.

"I suppose I'll have to be. I have the same manual Michael has. I'll just have to brush up on a few things, write out some talking points. I've been using those methods we learned at the seminar, and I really have seen an uptick in sales, so…"

"Yeah. Well. Cool."

They were unusually awkward with each other, avoiding one another's eyes now, while Jim absently clicked the candy dispenser too gently to actually get a jelly bean.

The phone rang again, startling them both. "Sheesh," she muttered, "Grand Central Station around here." Then, when she picked up the phone: "Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam."

It was Brian, from the documentary crew. Apparently, half the crew was sick, so there wouldn't be anyone following them around on the tour, or indeed, coming in to film at the office for a few days. Pam's first thought: she and Jim would be _completely_ alone. When she ventured a shy glance at Jim, she saw the same thought had occurred to him. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously, before he cleared his throat and made some excuse about making some calls.

At lunchtime, Pam went home to check on Roy, prepared to stay if he needed her. She was surprised to find his mother there, Roy having called and probably moaning like he'd been abandoned. As she had all his life, Mrs. Anderson was catering to her baby boy's every need, and the smell of homemade chicken soup fragranced the house.

"Don't you worry, Pam; I'll take care of him. You go on back to work. But here, take some soup with you," she whispered to Pam in the kitchen. Mrs. Anderson turned to the simmering pot, found a ladle and Roy's old Thermos. Roy was sleeping on the couch in the living room, ESPN on low on the TV. On the coffee table nearby was a half-eaten piece of toast, orange juice, a box of Kleenex, and a stack of new _Sports Illustrated_ magazines, including the latest swim suit edition.

"Oh, well, thank you," she said, accepting the warm container. "Look, I don't know if Roy told you, but I have to go on a business trip for three days, and there's no way I can get out of it. Any chance you can check on him while I'm gone? I'm sure he'll start getting better with his meds kicking in."

The guilty thought occurred to Pam that she probably _could _have gotten out of it, maybe had Ryan go in her place if Jim really felt he needed an assistant. It wasn't like _she_ was giving the training. But with Roy's mother there, she decided that there was no reason not to go. Besides, Pam rarely did anything fun for herself, and she had been looking forward to the trip for weeks. Of course, that had been when it was Michael going with her.

"Of course, I can stay," Mrs. Anderson said with sincere pleasure. "You go on and do what you have to do. I'll just stay in the guest room while you're gone."

"Okay, that's great. I'll be back at about 5:30 then. We leave early tomorrow morning."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim picked her up at seven the next morning, both of them desiring to get on the road, maybe beat the morning traffic. After stowing her small suitcase in the back seat, Pam got into the front of his Toyota, a light, fluttery feeling coursing through her veins. She smiled brightly at Jim, who presented her with a cup from Starbucks, and he smiled back as she gushed her thanks, happier than she'd seen him in a while. There was an energy in the air between them, and Pam chose to write it off as excitement for the trip, for getting out of the office. She didn't want to admit to herself that it could possibly be for any other reason but that.

She sipped at the caramel latte—her favorite—her smile widening until she felt her cheeks would crack.

"Okay, so shotgun picks the tunes, right?" she proclaimed, reaching for the radio.

He glanced at her, his expressive eyebrows flying up beneath his Bieber inspired hair.

"Who made that decree, Beesly? He who owns the car, makes the rules."

"Oh, come on. When it's my turn to drive, we can listen to whatever _you_ want."

"And who says _you're_ driving?"

Her head swiveled to look at him, forgetting all about the radio. "What? You don't trust me with your car?"

His lips quirked. "It's not that, exactly…"

"Ah," she said, knowingly, "it's a man thing. Or should I say, a _control _thing."

"No, I prefer to think of it as the gentlemanly thing."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. Control, like I said."

He looked genuinely hurt, and she was immediately abashed. "Okay, I'm sorry. I appreciate the thought, really, but it's only fair that I share the driving, right? It's going to be a long, tiring trip. And you know I'm not a bad driver. I've given you a ride places before in my car. You survived intact."

What she didn't mention was that Roy had always done the same thing to her, but it was definitely because of his lack of confidence in women drivers, despite the fact that she'd never even gotten a speeding ticket, let alone been in an accident—unlike Roy, who had done both. Jim acting the same way had really disappointed her. It was hard for Pam to accept that not all men had the same motivations as Roy.

"Okay, you can drive when I get tired, if that makes you feel better," he said at her silence. She could tell he was trying to sound annoyed, but wasn't really, and he gave her that familiar, achingly beautiful smile.

She smiled back, feeling the pricking of tears behind her eyes. Roy would never have given in, was never one to compromise. She turned and looked sightlessly out the window, trying to pull herself together.

"Great. Thanks," she said softly. "Just let me know when."

But then Jim flipped on the radio, tuning it to a classic rock channel. "But driver still chooses the music," he quipped, and Pam laughed, conceding the fair trade.

They drove on to their first branch, a two-hour drive to Camden, New Jersey. It was March, early spring, and the fields they passed were beginning to green, the trees and bushes showing signs of new life. The approach of spring always made Pam feel more awake, as if she'd been sleeping for months, and the euphoria at having Jim by her side heightened that emotion. They sang along to the likes of Queen and Aerosmith, Led Zeppelin and the Beatles. Neither of them had a great singing voice, but they made up for it in volume and enthusiasm, laughing when one forgot the words, or at the lyrics they made up when they forgot the real ones.

The time flew by, and soon they were pulling up to Dunder Mifflin, Camden. Jim carried in the box containing the training materials Pam had been copying and putting into booklets for the past week, and they were welcomed into the small branch like family.

Pam sat and watched in admiration as Jim captured and held the attention of the four salespeople who had gathered in their conference room, his easygoing, funny manner so much different than the theatrical presentation Michael had planned, and again, she found herself grateful things had worked out as they had. Jim used the Power Point presentation she'd made for Michael, ad-libbing personal experiences and amusing stories about his career selling paper. No one was ever bored or uncomfortable as she was used to when Michael conducted a meeting.

The two allotted hours seemed like nothing, and they left the Camden branch with smiling faces and friendly offers for them to come work at _their _branch. When they sat in the car again, Jim let out a long sigh of relief, running one hand in agitation through his hair.

"Phew. Glad that's over."

"What? You were amazing! They were hanging on your every word. You're totally a natural at this kind of thing."

She'd made the mistake one time of suggesting he leave Dunder Mifflin for better things, and she didn't repeat those words now, but _God,_ she thought, _he could do so much more than he was doing._ He was so wonderful with people, so engaging, so artlessly charming. If he'd wanted to, he could have sold paper to the paper salesmen, he was just that good.

He shook his head wistfully, blushing a little at her compliments. "Thanks, but it takes a lot out of me to get excited about selling paper."

She laughed. "Well, you should have been an actor then, because I would have thought that new sales technique was your passion in life."

He looked sideways at her and grinned a little. "I've gotten pretty good at hiding how I really feel, I guess." And her heart skipped a beat because it really seemed like he was talking about something that had nothing to do with paper. She had to fight the urge to reach over and take his hand, but she resisted, glancing at the digital clock to avoid his suddenly intense gaze.

"Uh, it's after eleven. You think it's too early for lunch? Do we have time before we head up to Stamford?"

He nodded, accepting her change of topic, much to her relief. "I could eat. What are you hungry for?"

Pam felt like they were sneaking into a club underage, when Jim boldly drove into a Chili's parking lot just off the interstate.

"You know I can't go here," she protested.

"Come on, Beesly, you think there are mugshots hanging by the door? You think you'll get carded, and then they'll call the police?" He chuckled.

"They might have my name in their system, and they'll kick me out when they recognize it."

"We're using the company credit card, and I'll sign for it so no one has to know who you are. Besides, I'm dying for some baby back ribs." He waggled his eyebrows, and she laughed when he sang the famous jingle.

"All right. But I am not to blame if we get thrown out this time. You're risking your own Chili's banishment, Halpert, for aiding and abetting."

"Come on, scaredy cat," he said, opening his door. "Live life on the edge for once."

Pam sat alone in the car a moment, his words echoing in her ears. That advice could apply to more than just sneaking into Chili's, and he'd said something similar to her before, about her life choices. She looked up to find Jim standing at the front of the car, staring encouragingly at her through the windshield, his long trench coat flapping in the breeze. With an exasperated grin, she shook her head at herself and got out of the car.

"That's my girl," he said, and the innocent expression made her blush, especially when accompanied by his putting one of his long arms around her shoulders, drawing her affectionately to his side.

_Is this what it would be like if I __**were **__his girl?_

Naturally, no one even looked at them twice as they entered the restaurant and were seated. Nor did they question her when she ordered soup and salad and Jim a club sandwich, though Jim teased her the entire time that they were on the verge of discovery, that any moment the restaurant police would burst in with an arrest warrant.

Finally, once their food arrived, she was able to relax. She'd always been the good girl, the rule follower, afraid to speak up—except around Jim. Jim gave her a confidence, a strength she wasn't really sure she had, but that she felt whenever she was with him. It allowed her to help pull crazy pranks on Dwight (who usually deserved everything he got, the ass), and to stand up to Michael when he acted like a jerk. It gave her the courage to take dares, to go on unchaperoned trips with single, attractive men, and, occasionally, to enter restaurants where she'd been banned for life. _God, why can't I be more like this at home, with Roy?_

"Is your tortilla soup good?" Jim was asking, gesturing with a French fry.

"Oh. Yeah. Very. I always get this. Uh…_used_ to get this. You know. _Before_…" She looked around, this time in mock fear.

He chuckled. "And you thought you'd never taste it again, didn't you Beesly. Stick with me, kid, and we'll hit every Chili's on the East coast. We'll be like the Bonnie and Clyde of restaurant crashers." He leaned forward conspiratorially, his voice low and menacing. "Sometimes, we won't even leave a tip. Before you know it, our pictures will be all over the news, and our infamy will spread so wide, there will be crowds surrounding every Chili's in the country, all of them hoping they're at the one we'll choose next."

She rolled her eyes at how droll he was. "You remembered how it ended for the real Bonnie and Clyde, right?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes that's the price you pay for a good time, Beesly, but you gotta believe it's all worth it in the end."

She watched him a moment, munching a bite of salad. She was tempted to point out how much better _his_ life could be if he stepped out into a more challenging career, her thoughts going back to how great he'd been at the first training session. But she didn't want to put a damper on things, on this perfect moment between them.

"Hey," he said, changing the subject, though she noticed he was a little tense now as he tried to form the right words. "What did Roy say about you coming on this trip with me instead of Michael?"

She averted her eyes, looked down at her salad, speared a cherry tomato with exaggerated care. She popped it into her mouth, bit down, the little tomato bursting sweetly over her tongue. She chewed methodically, stalling.

"I didn't," she finally managed, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"What?"

She felt her cheeks going pink. "Well, he was sick, and I didn't want to add any more…stress to his recovery."

Jim's eyebrow rose skeptically. "And you thought he'd be mad if he knew the truth."

"Well, not mad exactly. Just…suspicious. I mean, he doesn't know you like I do. He can be very…protective."

"You mean jealous."

"Yeah, sometimes."

She thought back on the times Roy had caught her and Jim standing too close, or even that time when Jim had been innocently holding her hand. She'd been able to calm Roy down, tell him there was nothing between Jim and her but friendship, and she'd allayed his fears later by showing him extra attention in bed, whispering to him that she loved him, that he was the only man for her. But more and more, she had begun to feel like she was lying to Roy, that he wasn't in fact, the _only_ man for her. As her wedding loomed closer, she'd begun to feel a certain amount of panic, a feeling that she might not be doing the right thing. It was getting harder and harder to push those fears aside, especially on this day, with Jim sitting across from her in this forbidden Chili's.

She noticed now that Jim's brows were knit in concern, and she rightly interpreted his thoughts.

"He would never hurt me, Jim," she said quietly.

"Then why didn't you tell him?"

She shook her head, then tried lamely to lighten the mood. "For the same reason I was afraid to come into this restaurant, I guess."

But he didn't smile at this, and Pam felt her stomach drop with the disappointment that she'd ruined the whole trip now. Would he suggest he take her back to Scranton? She rushed to forestall the possibility.

"Look, I wanted to do something for me, and if I told him Michael wasn't coming, he would have pressured me not to go. And weren't you the one just telling me to take more chances? Well, here I am, taking a chance. But I swear, all that will happen if he finds out is probably an argument, and then everything will be fine. I know how to handle Roy. You know the expression about how sometimes it's easier to apologize later than to ask permission? Well, that's the way it is with Roy on some things. But I'm used to it. Now, can we not talk about this anymore and just go back to having fun?"

It struck Pam that she sounded like a teenager talking about how to subvert a domineering father, and she was embarrassed by that. Just looking at Jim, she knew he was a better man than Roy, that he would never treat her like Roy did, never keep her from doing the things she wanted to do. She'd seen it first hand, when Jim had been disappointed in her for not following her dreams and taking those design classes Jan had offered to her, because Roy had thought them a waste of time. That had been one of the few times she and Jim had argued, and she'd hated every second of it. Mainly because he was right, and it had really been hard to defend herself, or Roy.

The waitress interrupted with an offer to refill their glasses, and a question about dessert, which they both declined. They finished their meal in silence, each lost in their own troubling thoughts. But when the bill arrived, and Jim signed his name with a flourish, he caught her eye and smiled gently at her. His_ it's gonna be all right, Beesly_ smile that always cheered her up, always gave her that shot of hope she needed to get through whatever tough thing she was going through.

"We got away with it, Beesly," he said in a dramatic whisper, as they walked to the car. "God, can't you feel that adrenalin pumping?" he teased.

She laughed, as he'd intended, and she felt their earlier tension draining away. He tossed her the keys, gave an exaggerated yawn.

"I'm feeling so tired after that big meal, and coming down from the adrenalin rush and all. I might just want to take a nap. You drive."

Her face brightened. "Really?"

They changed directions, Pam heading toward the driver's side, Jim, the passenger's.

"Really. I think you've more than earned it, Bonnie."

"Thanks, Clyde," she quipped back with a grin.

She hit the door unlock button on the key fob and they got in, Pam making a show of pulling up her seat closer to the steering wheel while Jim laughingly slid her former seat all the way back.

"Onward to Stamford," he proclaimed as she started the car.

Before they'd even left the parking lot, however, she turned the radio to an easy listening station, where Barry Manilow began singing about how he couldn't smile without the one he loved. Jim might have groaned very loudly, but she caught him singing along as she accelerated back onto the freeway toward Connecticut.

**A/N: Well, what do you think so far? Chapter two will be up soon, this time from Jim's point of view.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I know I said this chapter we'd get Jim's pov, and that's coming, but first, one more scene from Pam. Thanks to everyone who's reading this!**

**Chapter 2**

They talked and laughed and sang to corny eighties soft rock, and the first hour sailed by. But after a brief lull in the conversation, Pam looked over to find that Jim had indeed fallen asleep. His seat was tilted halfway back, which he'd done only a few minutes before when he'd stretched his long legs out in front him. Arms crossed over his seatbelted chest, his head was turned toward her, impossibly long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, tousled hair over his brow. His breathing was slow and deep, his full lips relaxed and gently parted. She realized she'd never seen him asleep before, and she had a hard timing keeping her eyes on the road.

He looked so young, and so damn perfect her heart squeezed with a feeling she was afraid to identify. She was tempted to pull over so she could touch him without awakening him, to see if his hair was as soft as it looked, to feel the hint of stubble on his masculine jaw, to trace the outline of his beautiful mouth.

_God._

She had to clench her teeth together to stop herself from gasping aloud, to stop herself from unaccountably tearing up. Whatever this was she was feeling for Jim, it was…dangerous.

She made herself focus on the song on the radio, which didn't exactly help her keep her mind off the man sleeping peacefully beside her.

_*I'm not in love._

_So don't forget it._

_It's just a silly phase I'm going through…_

A half-hour later, the fuel light came on, and she pulled off the highway to the first gas station she saw. Disoriented, Jim blinked and sat up just as she parked by the gas pumps and turned off the engine.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty," she said with a teasing grin.

He flushed. "Sorry. Guess I was more tired than I thought."  
"Well good thing I was driving, buddy. You might have fallen asleep at the wheel, as fast as you conked out."

He chuckled, looking around at where they were. "I'll fill her up if you'll run in and get me a Coke please. I should probably try to wake up."

"Deal," she said. "I have to use the bathroom anyway."

She came back just as he was hanging up the hose, a paper sack in hand.  
"What's all that?" he asked suspiciously.

"Road snacks!"

"We just ate an hour and a half ago."

"Yeah, well we need some carbs and caffeine if we're gonna make it through the rest of the day."

He took over again in the driver's seat without a protest from her, and as they moved back onto the interstate, she began unpacking.

"Here's your Coke," she said, unscrewing the lid for him and setting it in a cup holder. She put her own bottle next to his, and reached into the bag for a package of chocolate snack cakes, and a bag of her favorite chips.

He took a grateful sip of Coke, and held out his hand: "Cupcake me, Beesly."

She unwrapped the small cake and she watched in awe as he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth.

"You're supposed to savor those."

He answered something unintelligible, mouth full of cake and cream filling. She laughed. "What, are you twelve, Halpert?"

He grinned, chocolate in his teeth. "Eating those cupcakes always makes me feel like I am."

She took a dainty bite of her own, secretly agreeing with him. "Such timeless perfection needs to be enjoyed, however" she said haughtily.

He rolled his eyes. "Cupcake me, Beesly," he repeated, and she unwrapped another for him, which he immediately crammed again in his mouth.

They continued on to Stamford, both of them reveling in the joy of being together, of being free, of having fun.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At the Stamford branch, Jim and Pam stepped out of the car with shared moans of discomfort, stretching after the long drive. They inhaled the sea air appreciatively. It was all surreal for Jim, who still couldn't believe he was here with Pam, truly alone with her for the longest time he'd ever been. The Universe had either decided to torture him or reward him—he wasn't quite sure which. He was trying to remember every moment, saving them up to take out and cherish after the trip, when he would only have these memories to get him through the dark times ahead after Pam was married, when any hope of having her would be lost. So far (except for the time when he'd inadvertently fallen asleep while she was driving) there would be plenty to savor, and he felt almost overwhelmed at the pleasure this time was bringing him. It almost hurt to enjoy it, knowing it wouldn't last forever, and he tried his best to push the sad thoughts about the future out of his mind and live in each wonderful moment.

At the same time, he would pretend.

They weren't really on a business trip; they were off on a long weekend, maybe to the beach, or to the mountains. Instead of snack cakes and Sun Chips, they had a picnic basket in the backseat, and they'd stop at some roadside park or scenic turnout like his family used to do on long trips when he was a kid. He was free at any time to reach across the console and hold her small hand in his, maybe bring it to his lips as he smiled lovingly at her—no need to hide his true feelings. They were going to spend the whole weekend exploring, both the scenery and each other. But suddenly, one of them would say something that reminded him of Roy, and like that damned anachronous penny in _Somewhere in Time_, those thoughts would hurtle him back into reality, and he'd remember bitterly that she wasn't his at all. Shaken, it would take him awhile to rebuild the fantasy again.

To all of this, he hoped, Pam was blessedly oblivious. His smile and laughter were real and heartfelt, but it was a delicate, tenuous thing, and the specter of Roy hung over them as if he were sitting in the backseat of his Camry.

Feeling a little more confident with one training session under his belt, Jim escorted Pam into the Stamford branch, Jim carrying the box of training materials. Stamford was Scranton's chief rival, sales-wise, and the two branches took turns beating each other in total annual sales numbers. It had been Scranton's turn this year, which was why they'd gotten to go to the Atlanta seminar and get this training. He wondered how receptive their sales force would be to his presentation.

They were met by Josh Porter, the manager of the branch. As Josh led them to their conference room, Jim immediately admired the slick, more businesslike feel of the place. There were no messy desks or stuffed animals or bobble heads cluttering up the place, and the desks were arranged so that each person had their own private space: no desk mates. So, no one would have to be pushed next to a Dwight. Jim could totally see himself in such a place, if his life weren't in Scranton. If Pam…He shook his head imperceptibly to clear it. _Focus, Halpert_, he told himself.

The Stamford sales team consisted of a guy named Andy, two others named Burch and Tony, and a woman, Karen. Jim noticed absently that Karen was very attractive, exotic looking even, with mischievous eyes that belied her otherwise professional demeanor. She was a little distant, but Jim took no offense at her almost skeptical attitude about the new sales method. She asked the most insightful questions, and he soon deduced she was likely their top salesperson. Andy Bernard, on the other hand, was almost as annoying as Michael, but also like Michael, he had a sunny disposition that made you begrudgingly like him. The other two men seemed solemn and slightly bored, but he didn't blame them; this wasn't the most exciting stuff, and he knew what it was like to feel stuck in a pointless meeting.

He happened to glance at Pam, sitting in a chair against the wall near the door, and their eyes held for a moment, as if they were thinking the same thing. Her lips turned up in a subtle, encouraging smile, and it was all he could do not to stop talking and stare. She always had that effect on him, and he struggled back home in Scranton not to constantly look at her—for commiseration, for comfort, for humor, for just the pleasure of it. And it wasn't just him; he'd caught her many times looking at him over the years, and it always made him wonder if she ever stared at her fiancé like that.

During a break, everyone got up to stretch their legs, to get coffee or a donut from the break room.

"Tough crowd," whispered Pam, as she stood by him at the large bay window overlooking Stamford Harbor and Long Island Sound.

"Yeah. They probably resent us though, kicking their asses this year. How about this view though? Wouldn't you like to look at this every day rather than a boring parking lot?"

She grinned. "It has its merits, I guess. But I don't know…everything here seems so…cold."

He nodded in agreement, turning to look down at the top of her head, enjoying her closeness, the sweet, familiar scent of her hair.

Karen came in then, sat back in her chair at the conference table, and took a sip from her Dunder Mifflin mug. Pam and Jim politely turned away from the window.

"Hey, hope you didn't think I was trying to knock your presentation, Jim. There really is some useful stuff in there."

Jim chuckled dryly. "Oh, thanks. No, I appreciate your questions, seriously. I know at least someone is paying attention."

She smiled, and it made her even prettier, and he didn't think it was his imagination that her eyes lingered on his face in feminine appreciation. She took another drink of her coffee to cover her regard, then turned to Pam.

"So, Pam, what do you do at the Scranton branch?"

Jim immediately saw Pam's cheeks turn pink. "Me? Oh, I uh, I'm just the—

"Pam practically runs the whole office at Scranton," Jim interrupted, when he recognized Pam was about to belittle her position. He had an inkling that Karen intimidated her, and he wanted Pam to know that there was absolutely no reason for her to feel that way. Karen might wear chic, expensive pantsuits, have a sleek, sophisticated haircut, but no woman could hold a candle to Pam, not in his eyes.

"She's the boss's right-hand, for sure," he continued sincerely. "None of us could live without her." Pam's eyes met his again, this time in gratitude, and her flush turned darker at the compliment.

Karen's eyebrows shot up, and she looked at Pam and Jim speculatively. By then, the rest of the sales team had gathered again with their refreshments, and Jim finished his presentation in even less time than he had back in Camden. Halfway through, Josh Porter had snuck in and taken a seat to listen to the rest of Jim's spiel. Afterwards, he came up to Jim and shook his hand and congratulating him on a very informative session.

"Hey, if you guys don't have any plans, I'd love to take you out for dinner tonight," Josh invited them both.

Since they were staying that night in Stamford, Jim looked askance at Pam, who nodded her ascent. Just another example of how they didn't always need words to communicate.

"We'd love to,"Jim said.

"Great. Let me finish up a few things, and we'll head out for an early dinner. You like steak?"

"Absolutely," Jim and Pam replied at once, then laughed in mild embarrassment at their jinx.

"Wow, you two must have worked together a long time."

They only smiled.

Josh also invited the rest of his sales team, but Tony and Burch had begged off, leaving Andy and Karen to join them. They followed the Stamford bunch to a swanky steak and seafood place on the harbor. Pam looked nervously down at her usual cardigan, button up blouse and skirt.

"I hope I'm not underdressed," she said.

"You always look good," Jim told her sincerely, looking over at her in the passenger's seat.

"Thanks. You, too," she replied shyly, and they both blushed.

Jim tightened his tie and they walked with the Stamfordites to the front door of the restaurant, where they were escorted in immediately. Jim figured Josh must be a regular, and likely a good tipper, if the hostess's deferential treatment was any indication. They were seated at a table overlooking the water, and they all ordered drinks. At first, their small talk centered around business and the day's training, but when their food arrived, Josh eyed Jim with keen interest.

"So, tell me, Jim, do you like working at Scranton?"

It was in that moment that Jim realized why they were really here: Josh was trying to woo him over to Stamford. His answering smile was dryly amused.

"I love it," he lied convincingly.

Josh was immediately skeptical. "Really? Michael Scott is that great a manager?"

"Yep," he said, sipping his scotch and soda.

"Hmmm. You know, I've been to Scranton a time or two. Lovely little town. But you gotta admit, Stamford's got a lot going for it, don't you think?" Josh nodded meaningfully toward the harbor, where the moored ships were bathed in the pink and orange light of the setting sun reflecting on the water.

"Definitely."

He felt Pam's eyes on him, but he didn't dare look at her. Her tension was palpable, and his heart skipped a beat. _She doesn't want me to leave_.

"So, what would it take to get you to come and work for me in our little corner of paradise?"

Jim's eyes widened, and his eyes immediately flew to Pam, then quickly back at Josh. "Wow. Not a believer in the soft sell, eh?"

Josh chuckled. "Nope. Hey, look, you're only in Stamford for one night, and I figured this was my only chance to put this out to you. You're one of the top salesmen in Scranton, and I just have a good feeling about you. I like your attitude, your humor. I thought your training presentation was great. I can see you'd really fit in nicely, and I think you have a lot of room for advancement here. What do ya say?"

Pam, who had been mostly silent since they entered the restaurant, suddenly slid back her chair and quietly excused herself. He only caught a brief glimpse of her face, but she seemed really upset.

"Uhh…" he began awkwardly, looking back at Josh.

Josh's cell phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket, and glanced at the screen. "Excuse me, Jim. Hold that thought. I gotta take this—it's Corporate."

He walked away with his phone before Jim could answer, and he was left with the other silent diners, Karen and Andy.

"Well, that was weird," said Andy, cutting another bite of steak. Jim realized how the other two salespeople at the table must feel right now. Another salesman meant more competition. They really must be resenting him right now.

"Yeah, sorry," said Jim. "I had no idea that's what this dinner was about, believe me. I'm happy at Scranton." Another lie, or pretty close to one. He absolutely hated selling paper, but he was happy being near Pam, though the closer it came to her wedding, the more painful it was becoming to work there.

Karen changed the subject, or so she thought. "So, I see you and Pam seem pretty close. And I noticed her ring. Are you two-?"

_Jesus, these people have no sense of subtlety at all. _

"We're uh, just good friends," he said numbly. "She's engaged to someone else."

"Oh," said Karen neutrally, taking a drink of her wine.

"So there must be a girl back in Scranton then," added Andy. "I mean, what else would keep you tied to the back of beyond?"

_What indeed?_ Jim asked himself, though his eyes were drawn to the direction Pam had fled. He downed the rest of his scotch and tried to push down the sudden panic he was feeling because he'd dared ask himself, _Why the hell not? _

Once Pam was totally off the market, how did he expect to work there, when all his hope was gone and all he had left was a dead-end job selling the most boring product on the freakin' planet?

"No, no girls," he replied absently to Andy.

"Well, I can tell you that if you moved to Stamford, you'd practically be swimming in them. I could show you all the best clubs, just a hop, skip and jump to N-Y-C."

Karen rolled her eyes at her co-worker. "Seriously? Is that all you think about?"

"What else is there?" said Andy.

But Jim had tuned them out, and the longer Pam was gone, the more distracted he became. This job offer had come out of nowhere, and it certainly seemed to have come at an opportune time. He'd be stupid not to at least consider it, because like Andy had so tactlessly pointed out, what was keeping him in the back of beyond?

Josh and Pam returned to the table at nearly the same time, and Pam's seemed to have recovered, though he noticed a faint blotchiness in her cheeks, and she wouldn't meet his eyes. She picked at her grilled fish a few minutes before giving up and setting down her fork, her hands going to her lap.

"Sorry," Josh was apologizing. "Hey, you don't have to give me an answer right now, Jim. Take your time; think it through. If you decide to come to Stamford, I'll talk to Jan and help facilitate your transfer."

"Okay. Thanks, Josh. I'll uh, get back to you."

Josh raised a hand for the waitress, and ordered another round of drinks. With a grin, he turned the conversation to other things. "So, Jim, you a Knicks fan…?"

From there, the topics ranged from sports to the Stamford branch's obsession with _Call of Duty, _the merits of a well-cooked steak, and other small talk that Jim wouldn't be able to recall the next day. His head was spinning and by the end of dinner all he wanted to do was be alone with Pam so he could talk about everything. At the same time, he was scared to death to hear what she had to say, because he had no idea what she'd advise him to do.

Outside the restaurant, they shook hands all around, and Josh expressed again how happy he'd be to have Jim there, while Karen gave Jim's hand an extra squeeze, looking up into his eyes with a smoky invitation likely spurred on by one too many glasses of red wine.

"Regardless of your decision," Karen said, "I hope to see you again soon, Jim."

"Yeah. Nice meeting you, Karen."

Back in his Camry, the atmosphere was tense and quiet.

"What's the address of our hotel?" he asked her.

Pam reached for a file folder near her feet and rattled off the number and street while Jim punched it into his GPS. When the female voice directed him, he turned onto the correct street, while Pam's female voice remained uncomfortably mute.

"So, that was crazy, huh?" he ventured, in an attempt to fill the silence. To his surprise, that's all it took to crack open her shell.

"Are you considering taking the job?" she asked tightly.

At first, he tried answering with a joke. "I don't know. I wouldn't want you to blow your brains out or anything."

"What?"

"Sorry." He let out a shaky sigh. "Look, that offer came out of nowhere, Pam, and I'm kinda in shock, to tell you the truth. I guess I'd be dumb not to at least think about it. What do _you_ think?" Both hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, as he awaited her answer, while he followed the GPS directions without really paying attention.

"I…I can't make that decision for you. I mean, obviously, you'd be great, no matter where you are, and Stamford seems like a much more exciting, more beautiful place, so I wouldn't blame you. They'd be lucky to have you."

The only thing that kept his heart from falling into his stomach was the unspoken _but_ in her voice. He decided to take a chance and say it for her.

"But…?"

"But…I for one would miss you." He didn't miss the subtle tremble in her voice, and though he couldn't see her face clearly in the darkness of the car, he suspected she was crying a little.

_Your destination is on the right. _Jim looked up, surprised to see their mid-price chain hotel looming before them. He found a space near the front door and parked, then turned toward her, sudden frustration turning his tone shockingly bitter.

"Because we're _friends_, right?"

"Well, yes," she said, surprised at his attitude.

He inhaled sharply, his hands raking almost violently through his hair. Without another word, he unhooked his seatbelt and got out of the car. Pam remained seated, listening to him open the trunk and grab a small duffle and a garment bag, which he threw over his shoulder before walking toward the hotel lobby, assuming she would follow.

Jim checked them in at the front desk, presenting the company credit card. After signing, he handed Pam the key card for her room and quietly, they walked to the elevator, Pam pulling her rolling bag behind her.

Jim was angrier than he'd been in a long time, and he had nowhere to direct it, no way to express it without blowing a gasket in front of her. How had this wonderful trip taken such a sudden, terrible turn? It was like the Booze Cruise all over again, when Roy had announced that he and Pam had set a wedding date. He had this overwhelming urge to destroy something, to use every swear word he knew, to grab her and try to kiss some sense into her. The desire to do this was so great, he forced himself to move as far away from her as possible in the small elevator, not trusting himself to smell her or even accidentally brush against her as they were whisked up to the fourth floor. When the door slid open, he jumped out ahead of her, walking quickly down the hall while she trotted after him.

"Jim! Wait up, for cryin' out loud!"

He didn't stop until he found his room number and turned stiffly back to her, his face set in an angry mask, his breathing too fast and too loud for such a short jaunt.

"What the hell are you so mad about?" she demanded, the rare, fiery side of Pam reacting in kind to his anger.

"Nothing," he bit off in annoyance. "I just want to get to my room and go to bed. It's been a long fuckin' day."

She surveyed his stiff, towering stance a moment, unused to and maybe even a little afraid of this side of him, of his uncharacteristically harsh language, and she took a step back. That hint of fear is what finally got to Jim, and his face softened in remorse. He sighed, closing his eyes a moment to try to recapture his control.

"I'm sorry. I'm just tired, okay? And that dinner was, well, a lot. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast, say 7:30? They have a free waffle bar…" His lips quirked a little in a fleeting attempt at a smile, but she didn't return it.

"Okay…good night."

"Night."

He saw her look down at her key card, the gentleman in him waiting to see her safely in her room. Of course, he noted unhappily, her room was right next to his. _This was going to be fun_, he thought sarcastically, imagining her with only a thin wall between them: undressing, bathing, sleeping. _Jesus._

When she'd shut the door behind her, and he heard the metallic sound of her turning the lock inside, the anger drained out of him, leaving him bereft and unbelievably sad. With another sigh, he let himself into his own room.

**A/N: Things start to heat up between them in the next chapter. Thanks for coming along for the ride! And I'd love to hear what you think so far!**

*Song lyrics from "I'm Not in Love" by 10cc, circa 1975


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Updated faster than usual. Hope you don't mind ****?**

**Chapter 3**

Inside his hotel room, Jim saw, to his dismay, that not only were his and Pam's rooms next door to each other, they were adjoining. A door locked on both sides was all that separated them—well, that, and three years of misunderstood feelings.

_Wonderful._

With a frustrated shake of his head, he threw his luggage onto the bed and began to strip off his suit, shirt, and tie. It was only seven-thirty, but a shower seemed the best idea, and he hoped that the hot water would physically wash away the anger and confusion of the day. As he stood in the pulsating spray, head bowed as the water sluiced over him, memories flashed through his mind like a slide show. Singing in the car with her to that stupid Love Supply song. Their argument about the merits of CD's versus vinyl. Lunch at Chili's. Pam's small, sweet smiles during his training sessions. Her teary eyes at dinner. The fearful look on her face when he was angry ten minutes before in the hallway.

"God, how I love her," he whispered to the tile, just so he could hear how it sounded to say the words aloud. Had he been home, he would have pounded the wall, but instead, his frustration came out in tears that washed down the drain along with hotel shampoo that smelled like eucalyptus. But he only allowed himself a minute or two of self-pity.

_Buck up, Halpert._

With one towel around his waist and another to rub his wet hair, he walked back into the bedroom, intending to find a game on TV and try to forget about everything for awhile. As he rooted through his duffle bag for sweat pants and a t-shirt, he thought he heard a tentative knock on the adjoining door. He stopped, heart picking up speed as he listened again, wondering if he was imagining things. But no, the soft knock came again, accompanied by Pam's muffled voice: "Jim? Are you there?"

He went to the door.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Can we talk? Please?"

He swallowed hard. The smart thing to do would be to tell her he was too tired, but who was he kidding? He could never say no to anything she asked—which was part of the problem. Whether she knew it or not, Pam Beesly _owned _him.

He looked down at his lack of attire. "Okay. Give me a sec."

He grabbed his clothes from the bed and put them on, then, remembering his damp, messy hair, he rooted around in his shaving kit for a comb, only bothering to hastily comb it back. Thus arrayed, he went back to the door and unlocked his side, listening as she unlocked hers. She slid the door into its pocket and stood before him, in yoga pants and a forming-fitting, pink t-shirt that did wonders for her full breasts and the roses in her cheeks. His mouth went dry, but resolutely, he met her eyes.

Pam's eyes widened when she saw him, so tall in her doorway, smelling like his shower and so adorable with his bare feet and hair slicked back like it was school picture day. She couldn't help her smile, despite their earlier tension.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi."

Then, both in unison: "You want to come in?"

Jim found his own smile, and he stepped out of the door, gallantly gesturing to his room. Yoga pants should be illegal, he thought, sneaking a look at how it cupped her bottom so nicely.

Pulse pounding, Pam crossed his threshold.

"Your room looks bigger," she said.

"You wanna switch?" he asked in amusement.

She laughed. "Nah. It's only for one night. I'll survive."

She sat on his queen-sized bed, and Jim, ignoring the surreality of Pam being with him, alone in his room, sitting on his bed, he pulled out a chair from the small dining table near the window. He watched as she noticed the wet towels on the floor, and, remembering that he was still pissed at her, he forced himself not to jump up and toss them in the bathroom.

There was an unusual, awkward silence, but then Pam found her courage and spoke again.

"I don't like how things have been tonight," she said. "Something set you off, and call me crazy, but I'm thinking it might have been Josh's job offer."

"Yeah," he said, though of course, that was only a very small part of his anger.

"Well, why did it make you mad? I'd think you'd be flattered."

"I guess I was…it's just…it would mean leaving Scranton…" He let his voice trail off, hoping she would pick up his meaning without his having to spell it out.

"You hate Scranton," she reminded him.

He regarded her in disbelief. Was she encouraging him to leave, _again_?

"I don't hate _everything_ about Scranton." He looked at her square on, so intensely that she began to become uncomfortable, averting her eyes after a few seconds. Then, when he couldn't take it anymore himself, he asked: "Do you want me to leave, Pam? Because I could have sworn you were upset when you left the table earlier."

She looked up from where she'd been absently following the swirling pattern on the comforter with one finger. "No, of course not. We've had this argument before. You know I wouldn't want you to leave. But hearing the lovely picture Josh painted for you, I wouldn't blame you if you jumped on this chance. I mean, I watched you today during the training sessions. You're so good with people, Jim. So funny, so charming…Scranton doesn't allow you to—to use all your talents. I want what's best for you, you know that. I don't want fear, or—or habit to hold you back from these kinds of opportunities."

He took in what she said, believing she meant it sincerely, but her hypocrisy threatened to make him angry all over again.

"You should take your own advice, Beesly. Go for those design classes Jan offered you. Go back to college for your art. Find a job where you could work around the things you love…but it would mean leaving Scranton, wouldn't it?"

For a moment, she looked stricken, and then her face slipped suddenly into ironic amusement.

"Touché, Halpert. You're totally right. I'm sorry. I have no right to say anything about your life choices, when you know how messed up mine are." She stood to leave. "I'll uh, let you—"

He rose too. "Pam, wait. I'm sorry. I'm taking my—my confusion and frustration out on you. You've done nothing wrong. This is all me. I'm the one with the real problem. You have commitments in Scranton that I, uh, don't. And it's true—I _am _scared, of lots of things. Scared to move on, scared not to. I see my future and it's looking pretty bleak, and I'm too chicken shit to face the reality of it."

He stepped closer to her, reached down and took her hands in his, stared down at them, marveling at their difference in size. Her palms were slightly damp, just like his, and he hadn't thought it was possible to love her more. His eyes traveled back to hers, a beautiful, soft moss green in the low light.

"Can we please call a truce on this, at least for the rest of our trip?" he asked. "I have some thinking to do, and I haven't made any decisions yet. I really want things to go back to the way they were before dinner tonight. We were having so much fun…"

She smiled, looking up into his face. He felt her slip one hand from his to touch his cheek, then move higher, to brush aside a lock of his hair that had fallen to its usual place over his forehead. He went still, like a frightened, stray puppy who wondered whether he was about to be petted or slapped. But then she cupped his cheek, and his eyes closed involuntarily against the incredible pleasure of her touch. He would have wagged his tail if he'd had one.

"Truce, Halpert," she said, and dropped her hand from his face.

He opened his eyes and smiled, then shook the hand still in is. "Truce, Beesly."

"Are you still tired?" she asked hopefully, both of them grateful that relative normalcy seemed to have settled between them again. "I mean, it's still pretty early. You want to watch TV awhile? I still have some snack cakes…"

He laughed. "We just ate dinner—"

"Yeah, yeah, but there's always room for dessert, have I taught you nothing?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh, holding his hands up in surrender. "All right, I give up. Mi casa es su casa."

"Cool. I'll go get the cupcakes. You could go get some drinks from the vending machine…"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. What do you want?"

They sat on his bed together, a respectable distance between them, eating chocolate cupcakes, drinking bottled water (since it was technically a work night, and they'd already had a couple drinks earlier), and laughing at old _Frasier_ re-runs. One of her favorite episodes came on, the one where Niles and Daphne tango at a ball.

"Oh, my God," she said at the end, a little teary-eyed. "He loves her so much. It's so stupid. Why can't she see it?"

Jim stared at the end credits, not daring to look at her. "Some people don't see what's right in front of them sometimes. It's not all on her though. Niles really just needed to grow a pair and tell her."

She turned her head to look at him, and he felt her eyes boring into the side of his face. "They certainly could have saved a lot of time," she said softly. "I mean, she almost married someone else. _Niles_ married someone else…it was all so silly and pointless."

He felt compelled to turn his head then, where it rested against the padded headboard. Their eyes met and held, each recognizing the eerie similarities between them and the unrequited couple on the TV screen, and like them, one was dealing with selective blindness, the other with a fundamental lack of courage.

"It's just a TV show," Jim murmured, hitting the mute button on the remote control.

"Yes," she said, "but that part always makes me sad for some reason."

"Hm," he said, and his hand crept over the comforter, barely touching hers with his pinky finger. At his light touch, heat suffused her face, and a sudden, sensual tension flared between them. His eyes darkened, his heart stilled in his chest as she turned to look at him. They were both painfully aware that all he had to do was lean his head a little closer, and they would be well within kissing range. There was a heavy pause, and he waited for a sign that this was what she wanted.

When she looked down at his mouth, just centimeters away, and moved fractionally closer…he pressed his lips gently to hers. She gasped at the contact. Her lips were warm and soft, and it took everything in him not to part them with his tongue and ravage her mouth, then lower her to the bed and do the same to her body. But if Jim had learned anything over the past three years, it was self-control. Infinite patience. Suppressed desire.

After a few seconds, he released her mouth and opened his eyes to gauge her reaction. It was up to her. It had always been up to her. Dazed, hazel eyes met his, and her lips parted. He watched the emotions play over her face—shock, desire, and finally, horror. He wasn't surprised by any of it, though his heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces when he saw her regret.

Abruptly, she jerked back, stumbled off the bed. "I—I can't," she said sorrowfully. She practically ran back to her room, sliding the door between them once more. The sound of her turning the lock on her side of the door hurt worse than her actual rejection.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pam spent the next half-hour pacing agitatedly back and forth in her room, her fingers on her lips where Jim's had been only minutes before. The mechanics of the kiss had been almost chaste, innocent enough that had she not felt like her world had turned upside down she would have had no need to feel guilty. But it _had_ meant something, and she had felt it in every nerve ending of her body. She didn't want to imagine what might have happened if he had kissed her more passionately, because instinctively, she _knew_ what would have happened. She also knew that if she didn't have this damn ring on her finger, she would be naked in Jim's bed this very moment.

Since she was too keyed up to sleep, she found her flip-flops in her suitcase and, taking her key card and cell phone, she left her room via the hallway door.

She got out of the elevator on the first floor, not really knowing where she was going, just that she needed to get out of the room where she could hear Jim's movements next door, could hear his mattress shift, the toilet flush, even heard him cough once or twice. She passed by the door to the indoor swimming pool, and, finding that it was still open, she went inside and sat in a chair by the water, the steam from the heated pool almost comforting. Idly, she wished she'd thought to bring her swimsuit. No one was swimming; she would have had the whole pool to herself.

When her cell phone rang in the front pocket of her yoga pants, she jumped. Retrieving it, she saw it was Roy calling, and another wave of guilt washed over her. She hadn't even called to check on him today.

"Hey, babe," said a very congested Roy.

"Hi. Sorry I haven't called. It's been a busy day. How are you feeling?"

"A little better, I guess. Mom's taking pretty good care of me." He punctuated that guilt-inducing statement with a pitiful cough.

"I'm glad she's there for you," Pam replied, choosing not to take the bait.

"So what have you been up to today?" he asked. "Michael driving you nuts?"

Now was the time to confess, but at the memory of Jim's kiss, she found she couldn't.

"Not at all," she said instead. "We went to two branches today, the training sessions went fine. After the Stamford one, the manager there took us out to dinner at this beautiful restaurant on the harbor."

"Oh, that sounds cool. What did you have?"

"Fried cod and shrimp," she said.

"Lucky you. I'm getting pretty tired of chicken soup and Jell-O," he said.

They continued to small talk, and Pam was able to neatly avoid anything to do with Michael or Jim, and with the mundane, familiar connection with her fiancé, she began to calm down. Nothing had happened really. Her brief kiss with Jim didn't have to change anything between them, or between her and Roy. By the time she ended the call, claiming exhaustion after the long day, and the need to get up early the next, she had decided the best course of action would be to pretend like it never happened, much like the kiss they'd shared at the Dundies a few months ago. They'd never spoken of that again either, and she'd let Jim assume she'd forgotten it. True, neither of them had been drunk tonight, but they hadn't lost control either. Thanks to Jim, she realized with a shiver.

He'd given her a chance to have second thoughts, to move away from the fire. She took a deep breath. It would be all right. She wouldn't put herself in the position again to be tempted, and things would go back to normal, or some semblance of it.

It had to.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim barely made it to breakfast on time the next morning. He'd heard Pam leave shortly after the disaster on his bed, and he couldn't go back to sleep until he heard her come in again. He'd wanted to go after her, to make sure she was okay, to apologize. But he sensed and respected her desire to be alone, and he decided to leave it till morning to try to make things right, to salvage the friendship he might have ruined forever with his impulsive kiss.

_What the hell was I thinking? _He asked himself for the millionth time as he waited for Pam at a small table in the breakfast room. It was a free buffet, and the smell of waffles wafted through the air as promised. All Jim could muster though was a cup of coffee and a piece of buttered toast.

She appeared at 7:35, looking beautiful as ever, though her eyes seemed tired, and he could see she'd tried to cover the dark circles beneath them with more makeup than she usually wore. He'd looked at himself in the mirror that morning and it seemed like he'd aged ten years overnight.

Despite all this, the attraction that had always hummed between them was now a dull roar, and his heart leapt at the sight of her. His eyes were drawn to her mouth, and he imagined that the sweetness of her lips still lingered on his. He regarded the faint outline of her hourglass figure beneath her conservative work clothes with new appreciation, now that he'd seen what she looked like in a tight t-shirt and yoga pants that molded to her curves.

He was relieved when she gave him a wry smile, and walked directly to the buffet. She came back with coffee, a bowl of cereal, and a banana. He guessed the excitement of waffles had been ruined for both of them.

"Good morning," she said shyly.

"Morning."

They endured the silence for a few minutes, while she cut her banana in half, then sliced it on top of her Cheerios. She held out the other half of her fruit, and he grinned in spite of himself at her peace offering. He peeled it and stuffed it all into his mouth at once, and she smiled too.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, after he'd chewed and swallowed. She met his eyes, startled at first by his directness. She nodded.

"Me too. Let's just try to put it behind us, okay?"

If that's how she wanted to play it, he could live with that, at least for the next two days, for the sake of keeping the peace and preserving what was left of their friendship. But he didn't think he would be able to do this much longer, he thought sadly, not when they got back to Scranton. Not when she continued to plan her wedding. He could still go to Australia, like he'd planned; he just needed to call the travel agency again and give them his credit card number. When he got back, he could give Josh Porter a call, but he wasn't ready to dwell on all that, or he'd be sad and angry the rest of the trip.

And so they both resolved to sweep it under the rug. Of course, things weren't quite the same as the day before, and there was a new awkwardness between them that neither of them liked. During the three- hour drive, to Pittsfield, Massachusetts, they talked stiltedly about safe things, like the music on the radio, movies they wanted to see, gossip about the office back home. Jim gave his presentation in Pittsfield, they had lunch at a local diner, drove on and repeated things three hours later in Nashua.

Pam noticed his enthusiasm from yesterday seemed more forced today, though he'd whittled it down to a little over an hour. The lightness seemed to have gone out of the entire trip, and by the time they were ready for their hotel that night, all they felt like doing was driving through a burger joint to eat in their rooms before going to bed. The stress of being pleasant when neither of them felt that way, plus the long hours of driving, had finally begun to wear on them. Once again though, their rooms were adjoining, but neither of them dared suggest hanging out together.

"Good night," Jim said tiredly, as they both keyed open their doors at the same time. He gave her a weak smile, which she returned, wishing him a good night as well before they disappeared into their rooms.

Jim had just finished his burger when he heard Pam's cell phone ring next door. The TV was down low, so he could hear everything she was saying on her side of the conversation.

"Roy, hi! How are you feeling today?"

Jim was about to turn up the volume in respect for her privacy, when the tone of her voice suddenly changed, and he was no longer ashamed that he was listening. She sounded obviously upset, and a little frightened.

"What? Who told you?"

A pause, assumedly Roy answering. Jim knew immediately what this conversation was about: Roy had probably found out Jim had gone on the trip instead of Michael. He got up to stand closer to the adjoining door. This concerned him too, he justified to himself, especially after he heard his own name.

"Look, it's no big deal. Michael was sick, and it just worked out this way…No, there's nothing going on…I wasn't lying to you, I just didn't want you to get upset. You've been sick…Yes, I have my own room, Roy…Jim's not here, I swear…how dare you say that to me, especially after what _you _did last summer!"

She was obviously crying now, and Jim could only imagine what angry things Roy was saying to her. Then, her last words registered: _What the hell did Roy do last summer?_

He vaguely recalled Pam being upset about something after the Fourth of July holiday, but she wouldn't give him any details, just said that Roy had gotten really drunk. _Had the bastard cheated on Pam? _He felt himself growing angry, conveniently forgetting he'd kissed Pam just last night.

"You know what, Roy, you can just forget it, do you hear me? This is the last straw. If you can't trust me, after I have tried so hard to forgive you for the Fourth, then you can just go to hell, because I'm done…I'm going to finish this trip with Jim, and when I get back, I'm moving out…What _about _the wedding? How can we get married when we can't trust each other?...No, I'm tired of talking about this…Fuck _me?_ Well, fuck you, Roy! Fuck you!"

She ended the call, and he could hear her crying in deep, wrenching sobs that ripped his heart in two. He heard her phone ring again, but she didn't answer it, and then it sounded like she'd thrown it against the wall. He knocked insistently on the door.

"Pam! Are you okay? Please, let me in." He unlocked his door. "Pam?"

At first, his pleas were met with silence, and he thought she was going to ignore him, or that maybe she hadn't heard him because of her crying. But a moment later, she unlocked her door, slid it open, and threw herself into his arms.

**A/N: A little bit of a cliffhanger. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hope I didn't leave you hanging from the cliff too long, and that it was worth the wait. This chapter is definitely where it earns its M rating. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 4**

For a minute, Jim stood, frozen, trying to come to terms with the fact that a) Pam was in his arms, and b) she'd apparently just broken up with Roy. But then, when she held him tightly around the waist, her cheek pressed against his chest, crying as if her heart were breaking, he snapped out of his daze. His arms wrapped around her, her head resting just below his chin. He softly murmured words of comfort into her hair, as he rocked her gently from side to side like a child.

"Hey…it's okay…it's okay…"

He didn't know how long they stood like that, but when her crying began to subside to quiet sniffles, he became achingly aware that she was only wearing a tank top and sleep shorts, so he was touching and seeing more of her skin than he ever had before. He tried not to tense up, closing his eyes so he could keep lightly rubbing her back. He felt tremendously guilty that he was getting so much pleasure from this intimate contact while clearly she was incredibly upset. But having her pressed so closely to him, his t-shirt damp with her tears, he couldn't ignore how unbelievably warm she was, her skin so soft, her curly hair, tickling his neck, so fragrant…he wondered how much longer he could bear it.

He was saved from stepping away out of self-preservation when Pam disentangled herself from his arms, stepping back in embarrassment. She avoided his eyes, seemed flustered as she wiped at her cheeks with shaking fingertips.

"Sorry…I…Roy found out that I'm here with you…he wasn't happy."

"Let's sit down," he said, taking her hand and leading her to his bed. He grabbed a few tissues from the nightstand and she took them gratefully. She blew her nose on one, dabbed at her face with another.

"What did he say?" Jim asked, not letting on that he'd heard her side of the conversation, had guessed what Roy had probably said.

"He called me a—a liar, which I guess technically I am, by lying by omission. But he also asked me how long I've been...having an affair with uh, you."

She looked over at him quickly, to see his reaction, and was surprised to see him blushing. He laughed without humor, and he was the one who looked away this time, though he didn't say anything. Pam took a deep breath, figuring she owed him the whole story, considering the tear stains on his shirt, and considering Roy might be out for his blood when they got back to Scranton.

"But I've _never_ cheated on him," she continued. "I can't say the same for him, though. Last Fourth of July, Roy got really drunk—I think I told you—but what I didn't tell you is that I found him making out with my cousin Meghan down by the lake where my family always goes for the Fourth. We were about to watch the fireworks show, and the two of them were nowhere to be found, so I went looking. They were in my dad's boat that was tied to the shore. She had her bikini top off—Roy was only in his shorts. If I hadn't found them…well, anyway, Roy begged my forgiveness, said it had never happened before, and never would again. He said later he was drunk out of his mind, that she came onto him—a million excuses, which I chose to believe. I was mad at him for about a month, and he tried everything to make it up to me. And like an idiot, I forgave him. And now he has the gall to accuse _me_…"

Jim didn't say anything. He was angry on her behalf, hating that bastard for her, his hands tightening into fists, but he didn't understand why she hadn't kicked Roy out months ago. He held his breath, waiting for her to confirm what he thought he'd heard her say: that the wedding was off. That she was breaking up with Roy. Maybe she hadn't meant it though. Maybe she'd just been angry, and she would forgive him like she had before.

He risked a glance at her, and all he could see were her bare legs and arms, gently toned from the yoga and aerobic videos she told him once she worked out to. He'd teased her about that, but man, had those videos paid off. The desire to touch her was almost overwhelming, especially when she turned her body so that she was directly facing him, her eyes luminous from her tears, her face blotchy and vulnerable but still heartbreakingly beautiful. She sat cross-legged on his bed, nervously toying with her damp Kleenex.

"I told him I was done," she said in a whisper, looking down.

Jim exhaled, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse, like he'd been yelling. "And, what does that mean exactly?" he dared to ask. He had the dizzying sensation that he was standing on a precipice, waiting for her to either rescue him—or push him over the edge.

For the first time since she'd entered his room that night, she looked at him straight on.

"I can't be with a man I can't trust, who doesn't trust me. When we get home, I'm moving out." Then, in a sudden burst of renewed ire, she slid Roy's ring off her finger and threw it at the wall. It bounced with a metallic _ping_, then rolled onto the carpeted floor. He didn't bother following where it landed, because he was too busy studying her face—determined, angry, and satisfied. His heart swelled in a strange mixture of pride at her bravery, and a small flicker of hope at what this might mean for them.

"I'm sorry," he heard himself say, but it was for her pain, certainly not that she was ending it with Roy.

"Me too. Sorry that I've been so stupid for ten years. That I've wasted my life on this asshole." Her words were bitter, but the tears were back, following a familiar slow track down her cheeks. And then it was that Jim realized that there was nothing stopping him now from touching her, if she would let him, if that's what she wanted. Tentatively, he reached out and put his fingertips on her knee, felt the usual jolt he always did when he touched her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Can I get you anything? Water? A cold cloth? A stiff drink?"

She blotted her cheeks again, giving him a wobbly smile at his words before her face fell again. "Will you…will you just hold me…please?" she asked, her voice trembling like a child's.

Without a word, he immediately moved to gather her in his arms, where she cried quietly-nothing like before, when she'd seemed so broken. Her arms snaked around his torso again, her full breasts pressing against his chest, her cheek in the crook of his neck. Without thinking, he bent and kissed her forehead, meaning only to give comfort…but then he felt her head turn slightly, her lips open against his skin. His body grew hot all over, though her warm breath made him shiver, and he could have sworn he felt the faint wetness of her tongue.

_God, was she kissing him? _

He stilled, and he was sure she must feel the pulse racing in his neck, but her soft lips were now sliding slowly up to his jaw, to his cheek, to the corner of his mouth.

"Pam," he said breathlessly, turning his head to look down at her, unwittingly allowing her lips to move over his. His eyes closed against the overwhelming sensuality of the moment, as she molded her mouth to his. He pressed back slowly, his movements and his stuttering heart not quite in sync. Then, as if someone flipped a switch, their mouths opened hungrily, his hands coming up to rest on her cheeks, to slide into her hair as he kissed her with everything he had, unleashing at last all the unspoken love and desire he'd suppressed for years.

His tongue slipped between her lips, deepening the kiss, and he was elated that she kissed him back with equal fervor, her hands impatient on his chest, then his shoulders, drawing him ever closer. He reveled in the taste of salty tears and strawberry milkshake, in the scent of flowers and the softness of her curls. Without a thought he lowered her beneath him on the bed, half-covering her body with his own. Her fingers found his hair, and restlessly played at the back of his head as he pressed her into the down comforter.

When his hands moved up to rest below her breasts, she turned her head from his to gasp to take in oxygen, while he kissed his way to her neck, then up to her ear, his tongue toying with the small hoop on her earlobe, his hot breath making her feel like she was melting into the bed. The pounding in her head was so loud and fast she couldn't think—especially when his thumbs brushed over her tight nipples. Her back arched involuntarily and she could feel him, hard and heavy against her thigh. She tensed, reason seeping into her muddled mind.

_Too fast_.

"Jim," she breathed, but she wasn't sure he'd heard her, especially when his thumbs increased their attention on her breasts, and his mouth recaptured hers. Her mind went blank for a moment, and she briefly forgot the feeling that she was hurtling toward something she wasn't ready for when his tongue tangled so seductively with hers, when his body felt so right on top of her own. But when she inadvertently moved her leg against his crotch, he moaned into her mouth, moved his head to breathe heavily against her neck. She snapped out of it again and said his name.

This time he heard her, and opened his passion dazed eyes to meet hers. He saw the look on her face and immediately grew concerned.

"Am I—are you okay?"

"We should slow down," she whispered.

His eyes widened in sudden awareness. "Oh," he said, "okay…sorry." But when he began to move off her, she reached up to brush his hair from his eyes, and he stopped when he saw her small smile.

"I didn't say stop, exactly. I mean, I want to be with you. I just…could we maybe be together without, you know, _being_ together? It just feels too soon, too fast…does that make any sense?" She was blushing furiously now, both from residual desire and embarrassment that he might consider her a tease.

He nodded slowly. He felt like a heel. She'd just broken up with her fiancé fifteen minutes ago, for God's sake, and here he was, attacking her like a wild animal.

"No, you're right. Whatever you want, okay? But I should probably maybe uh, not lay on top of you right now."

"Yeah, right," she said awkwardly. He rolled off of her, laying on his back while his chest rose and fell in time with his hammering heart. He closed his eyes, then felt her cuddle close to his side, resting her head on his shoulder while he attempted to calm himself down.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to go that far so..quickly," she said.

He smiled wryly. "You weren't the only one there, Beesly."

They lay like that for a few minutes, while their bodies cooled enough to have a coherent conversation. Then, Pam began to talk.

"I know this might seem totally out of the blue, with Roy, I mean. But it seems like in the last two years, I've had to try so much harder than before to stay with him, to tamp down my anger, to forgive him constantly for crap. It's been little things, mostly, stuff that hurt my feelings, but that I could excuse by telling myself I was being overly sensitive. I've told you some of it over the years—you know, how he spends more time with his brother than with me, how he gambles too much, or drinks, or misses my birthday or Valentine's Day, how he blows off doing things that are important to me. But there have been other things too, bigger things, like how our long engagement turned into the butt of a joke. And I've suspected he's cheated before Meghan, but I could never prove it, and when I hinted around to him when he seemed interested in other women, he brushed me off, told me to quit being so insecure. I convinced myself he was right. God, I've been such an idiot."

Jim moved to his side so he could look her in the face. She turned too, so that they faced each other, mirror images, heads resting on hands.

"You're not an idiot, Pam. I've always thought that he didn't deserve you, or your loyalty to him. I've bitten my tongue so many times-"

"I wish you hadn't," she said. "As my friend you could have told me what you thought."

Jim let out a bark of disbelief. "Yeah, because you totally wouldn't have told me to mind my own damn business," he said sarcastically.

She was self-aware enough to look sheepish. She sighed. "You're probably right. But still, it would have been another voice in my head telling me how stupid I was to stay with him. But it's nobody's fault but my own, I guess. I just feel like the biggest fool. What you must think of me…"

She bowed her head, and he watched a silent teardrop drip onto the comforter.

"Hey," he said, reaching for her chin and lifting it till she met his eyes. "I think you're incredible. And you loved the guy, right? You made a commitment to him. He's the fool, Pam, for betraying your trust. God, if you had been mine…" He shook his head as the familiar fantasy took over.

"What?" she prompted shyly, and he blushed, but he was dying to tell her something of what he was feeling, what he'd felt forever.

"I-I would never treat you that way. You would be my whole world. You would be…_everything._"

As she stared at his impassioned face, Pam Beesly's eyes were finally opened, and she realized she had been in denial about Jim for years: he was in love with her. How hadn't she seen it? She'd been so blind for so long about so many things. He'd admitted to having a crush, and she knew that he really liked her, but no man says you are their _everything_ if it's just a simple crush.

After his declaration was met with silence, Jim rolled again to his back, one forearm flung over his eyes in mortification. She watched him, suddenly empathizing with him like she'd never allowed herself before. These feelings she'd had for him lately, the ones she realized now were what had really given her the courage to finally break it off with Roy—well, finally, she was free to let herself feel them. And she could also put a name on them now, surprised at how easy it was as she looked at him, _really_ looked at him, the taste of him still lingering on her lips.

_I love this man. This wonderful, sweet, funny, beautiful man._

She hovered over him, her heart in her eyes, and reached for his arm to gently move it from covering his beloved face.

"You don't need to be embarrassed," she said softly to his closed eyes. "Any woman would be lucky to have a man who cared for her like that. I—_I_ would be lucky…"

Before he could open his eyes and see her emotions totally laid bare, she leaned over and kissed his mouth. He sucked in a breath of surprise, giving her the chance to slip her tongue inside, his gasp turning into a moan of pleasure. His hands were in her hair again, holding her to him as he met her passion tenfold, their tongues boldly exploring, arousal slamming into them both with the force of a Mack truck.

This time, Pam climbed on top of him, straddling him in what she knew in the back of her mind were clearly mixed signals, but she didn't care, and judging from Jim's renewed hardness, he wasn't caring much either at the moment. The kiss, the most sensual one of her life, went on and on, and Pam had never felt so turned on, her skin hot to the touch, as if she too were sick with a fever.

Jim was holding on to his control by a thread, forcing himself to remember her earlier wishes, despite how she pressed her body to his, moving over him like she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her hair hung around his face, the curls tickling his cheeks, as she kissed him with so much fire that he was quickly reaching the point where he was either going to have to take her or embarrass himself in his pants.

"Pam," he said, forcing himself to pull his mouth from hers. "If you want me to stop, _you're_ gonna have to stop…"

"I don't want to stop," she breathed into his ear. "I want this. I want _you_." _I love you,_ she finished to herself, though it was still new, so raw, she couldn't muster the courage to admit that yet.

It occurred to Jim that he was about to become her rebound, but he'd gone past the point of caring, and feeling was quickly taking over. And God, how good she felt beneath his hands, beneath his lips-how good she was making _him _feel.

As if to prove her sincerity, she sat up on him, and, eyes glued to his, pulled off her skimpy tanktop, tossing it to the floor. His mouth went dry as he beheld her full breasts, encased in a simple, nude colored bra, her nipples pressing insistently against the soft fabric. Her cheeks and chest flushed, she reached for the front closure, releasing it and slipping the straps off her delicate arms, her back gently arching at the movement.

Then, with a boldness that surprised both of them, she reached for his hands, placing them on her naked breasts.

"Jesus," he said, eyes closing briefly at the overwhelming sensation, far surpassing any dream he'd ever had of such a moment, and he'd definitely had some dreams. But then, he was looking at her again, a hunger in his eyes that would have frightened her, except that this was Jim. It was her turn to gasp and close her eyes against the wonder of the moment, as he cupped her, employing his thumbs again, making her breath hitch and her crotch press harder against his. He pulled her forward, raising his head off the bed so he could suckle her, her hands going to his shoulders for support, her sharp sounds of desire cutting through his body.

Her breasts had always been incredibly sensitive, and she had actually orgasmed in the past by being touched there alone, but that had been a long time ago. As Jim increased his attentions, alternately using his mouth and fingers on each breast, she was well on her way to revisiting that forgotten peak. It was a great surprise to both of them when she began shuddering uncontrollably, crying out in ecstasy at the combination of his mouth on her breasts and the hardness of his erection pressing right against where she needed him to be.

The waves of heat engulfed her, and she began breathing so heavily that she saw stars, before finally collapsing against him, her body twitching with residual sparks of electricity coursing through her veins. Jim's hands moved gently over her damp, trembling back, realization setting in at what had just happened.

"Oh my God…Pam, did you just…?"

She nodded once, burying her face bashfully into his chest.

He hadn't meant to embarrass her, because what had just happened had been so exquisitely beautiful he would never in a million years want to make her feel bad about it. He was quite simply in awe of her, and more aroused by it than she could imagine at her responsiveness…_to him_.

"It's okay," he whispered. "That was just so…_hot_. You have no idea."

She looked up at him shyly. "Really? Because I feel like a teenage boy."

He chuckled, his body shaking beneath hers in amusement. He took her by surprise—again—and rolled her to her back, pinning her there with his body and with his eyes. "Believe me, there's nothing remotely _boyish_ about you, Beesly. That was…amazing."

And when she looked into his eyes, so filled with love and admiration, she believed him. Confidence flooded her again, and her expression became determined, her hands slipping beneath the back of his t-shirt, making him shiver as her nails glided over his bare back.

"Take off your clothes, Halpert, and let me return the favor."

He didn't waste any time then, stepping off the bed to pull off his shirt, then unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants. She sat up on her elbows to watch the show, impressed by his wide shoulders, the lightly muscled biceps and stomach of a basketball player, the heavy bulge in his gray boxer briefs. She followed him with her eyes as he went to the head of the bed and pulled down the comforter and the top sheet, then held out his hand, his expression warm and infinitely inviting.

She crawled over the bed to join him, and what should have been awkward and weird, seemed completely natural, as she knelt on the bed before him, taking his hand as he bent and kissed her. Mouths still connected, he lowered her slowly to the pillows, where they slid beneath the covers, kissing and caressing, discovering smooth, bare skin and hardness encased in velvet; wetness and softness; sensitive nerves and quivering flesh.

She used her hands and her mouth on him until he was shaking and begging, and with a smile on her lips she moved up his body to lower herself upon him, both of them moaning at the perfection of their joining, the sense of completion, the pure pleasure. His hands at her hips, he helped set the pace—torturously slowly at first, then building in tempo until they were both gasping and making incoherent sounds of rising ecstasy. When his fingers found her swolen little pearl, he rubbed it once, twice, before she cried out, her inner walls tightening around him, sending him over the edge along with her.

He held her trembling body to his, not quite believing what had just happened between them. He felt his eyes water in sheer joy, never having felt this way with anyone else, ever. Emotion welling inside of him, combined with residual adrenaline, he held her more tightly, unable to hold back the words he'd longed to say to her since the day they met.

"I love you. God, Pam…you'll never know how much…"

**A/N: A little nicer cliffie, don't you think? More soon. Thanks so much for all the positive and encouraging reviews.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

His words hung in the air as Pam lay in Jim's arms, paralyzed by emotions too deep, too new to voice. She wanted to say it back, sensed how much Jim wanted to hear it, but somehow, she couldn't. She'd jumped the gun on sleeping with him, and as wonderful and powerful as that was, she still hadn't quite processed what they'd done, what it meant for her, for them. But the last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him, or mislead him into thinking she felt nothing, so she found his mouth and kissed him deeply, hoping her actions would convey the words she was still afraid to say.

He responded immediately, his hands traveling over her body, exciting her surprisingly soon after already coming apart twice under his skilled and knowing hands. After a moment of renewed passion, he slowed his movements, kissed her gently before they both got carried away again.

"You don't have to say it if you don't feel it," he whispered. "I just needed you to know. I've waited so long to tell you…"

"You have?"

"Yeah," he said, looking down a moment, blushing. "Almost since the day we met."

His words thrilled her, brought the sheen of tears to her eyes. _All this time_…she thought in wonder. She had sensed he had a crush on her, knew he liked her, cared for her as a friend. But love? God, she really _had_ been blind.

"Wow," she whispered lamely. "It's all just so…overwhelming. Please…give me time to absorb all that's happened today. I _can_ promise you though, this isn't some rebound thing, if that's what you're afraid of."

At the look in his eyes, she saw that she'd been right to suspect that fear.

"Okay," he said, nodding once. "But just so you know, I want you_, all_ of you, body and soul, and I'm willing to wait for you until you figure it out. But in the end, I won't take less, Pam. I couldn't take it if you don't feel the same way I do, or if you're holding on to what you lost with Roy-"

She put a finger over his lips to stop that line of thinking.

"I will always care for Roy—he was my first in—in _everything_. But I'm not going to let him manipulate me or hold me down anymore. It was ten years of my life, most of it happy until the last couple, but it's time for me to move on, to find what truly makes me happy. Tonight, I've seen a glimpse of what that would mean with you. And I want it. I want you, like I've never wanted anyone before. More than anything, I want to see where this goes. I just need you to be patient with me, please…"

"I can do that, because I know you're worth it, especially after what I felt between us just now. No one has ever—God, Pam, I can't even put into words how incredible it is with you." His eyes turned softer, tinged with sudden humor. "You own me now, Beasly, and you're not getting rid of me anytime soon."

She smiled, flushed with pleasure, her fingers playful in the hair on his chest. She looked up at him mischievously. "So, you're like my…sex slave now?"

He grinned. "Most definitely. Your wish is my command."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Hmmm…that's going to require a bit of thought."

He rolled her to her back, covered her body with his. "Well, while you're thinking about it, I have a few suggestions…"

He kissed her, and she could feel beneath the covers how aroused he was already, something she wasn't at all used to. With Roy, it had always been one and done, except in the early days of their relationship, when they were both horny teenagers. Amazingly, Jim was making her feel that way again, and she was flattered to find that she was exciting him just as much. So, as he kissed his way to her breasts, then lower, to her flat stomach, before venturing lower still, she realized that she should maybe try to avoid making comparisons to Roy. For as Jim's tongue worked it's magic and she came beneath his mouth, she knew without a doubt there was no one in the world that could make her feel like Jim.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim woke up about thirty minutes before their scheduled wakeup call to find Pam wrapped around him. Her curly hair, the stuff of his dreams, lay spread over his naked chest, its usual barrette lost somewhere in the sheets. Her slim, freckled arm was draped over his waist, her smooth legs tangled with his. She breathed deeply in sleep, and he realized he had never slept so comfortably with another woman before. When he'd had overnight guests in the past, he would have a restless night, awaking every time she moved. After the second time he'd made love to Pam, he was down for the count, and hadn't remembered moving or waking throughout the night.

He looked down at her in the dim morning light seeping in through the white blinds—he had forgotten to close the drapes. She was so beautiful, like an angel, as sappy as that sounded in his own mind, but he honestly couldn't think of a better description.

He lay there a moment in his hotel bed, trying to come to terms with the surreality of it all. The overriding emotion for Jim, however, was joy. He had never been happier in his life. And it wasn't just the sex—although that was incredible—it was just being close to her, just being able to express the feelings he'd had to suppress for years. It was liberating. It was exciting. It was life-changing.

Despite his best efforts not to wake her, she must have sensed the change in him, for slowly, she began to stir. He stilled, waiting for her reaction with a quickening pulse. Regret? Shame? Fear? But when she raised her head and looked up at him through sleepy eyes, he was relieved to see none of those emotions. Instead, he saw a soft tinge of happy surprise along with adorable shyness, as if she too had expected that it had all been a dream, only to find that it definitely had not been.

"Hi," he whispered, craning his neck to kiss her forehead.

"Hi."

They didn't speak again, as her hand idly played with his chest hair, their eyes meeting, all their feelings open for the other to see. Slowly, the air began to change between them, and she turned her head to kiss his chest, her hand following the hair down his taut stomach, before finding his morning hardness beneath the sheets. She caressed him lovingly, while her tongue found his flat nipple. He gasped at the dual sensations, his hand going to her head to gently hold her there. He allowed himself a few moments of enjoyment before he turned on his side, then pulled her back against his chest. Brushing aside her thick hair, he pressed his lips to the back of her neck, his hands moving around to cup her breasts, his erection firm against her buttocks. She shivered and pushed back against him.

Jim reached down to adjust himself, then, with a dip of his hips, he slid slowly into her from behind. His action was met with a gratifying "Ohhhhh," and as she moved to take him all in, he moaned his reply. One of his hands traveled down to the apex of her thighs, and he massaged her there in time with his slow, deep thrusts. He felt himself flushing all over with the heat and sensuality of the moment, their rhythm together perfectly attuned. As much as he would have liked it to go on forever, his orgasm took him completely by surprise, and he shuddered into his release. He barely registered that she followed him soon after, their cries echoing in the nondescript Nashua hotel room.

Still buried within her, he held her tightly, his face in her hair, eyes closed tightly in exquisite bliss. He hadn't thought it possible, but their simple morning lovemaking had surpassed any sexual experience he had ever had.

"I love you," he whispered near her ear, the only words that came close to adequately expressing his feelings in that moment. "I love you."

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Their seven o'clock wakeup call had interrupted sweet, tender kisses, the curse under his breath so vile that she'd laughed in only partly feigned shock. He didn't want any of this to end, and he had the sinking feeling that soon, all of this would be going away.

"Hey," she said, touching his stubbled cheek. He instantly calmed, his hand covering hers, and he made a concerted effort to cheer up. "The great thing about having two rooms, is we can both use the shower at the same time."

He grinned suggestively. "Or…we could conserve water and just use one…"

"Gee, Halpert, I never knew you were such an environmentalist."

"Every little bit helps, Pam," he said seriously, though his lips were twitching at the corners.

She chuckled. "Well, sorry to disappoint the world, but I think it best we shower seperately, or we'll never get out of here. We have a long drive this morning."

"Don't remind me." It was nearly six hours to their next and final stop, Trenton, New Jersey.

He watched her get out of bed, but when she tried to steal the comforter to hide her nakedness, he held it fast. She struggled with him a few moments in an impromptu tug-of-war, while she playfully cursed at him and he laughingly held on. Finally, giving up in the face of his superior strength, she let go, and, completely naked, practically ran out of his room through the open adjoining door to hers.

He laughed, telling himself he would never forget the sight of her alabaster white bottom bouncing pleasingly into the next room. Jim lay there another moment, basking in the afterglow, before sighing in frustration and rising from the bed, comfortable with his own nudity. He padded toward the bathroom, but, stepping on something hard and pointy, he barked out a pain-filled "Ow! What the hell?"

As he bent to pick up the offending object, he realized immediately what it was: Pam's engagement ring, all but forgotten after she'd thrown it against the wall the night before. He stared at it thoughtfully, a small diamond solitaire set in a thin, gold band. He passed no judgment on its size or quality—it was certainly commensurate with a warehouse worker's salary, and if Jim were to buy one, he figured his selection wouldn't be much larger. It had been on Pam's hand since he'd first met her, although he'd missed it until she'd told him she was engaged; in hindsight, because he'd wanted so much for her to be single, he hadn't bothered looking, and he'd felt like an idiot when she'd held up her left hand for him to see.

_Yeah_, he'd remembered thinking with intense disappointment, _message received_.

But now, finding her discarded ring had presented him with an entirely new message, one of hope, and he smiled a little, allowing himself to feel the happiness of it, imagining that someday a ring of _his _choosing might grace her lovely white hand.

Next door, he heard the shower turn on in the bathroom, and he took Pam's ring into her room, setting it down on the dresser next to her purse so she would be sure to see it. He suspected that she really wouldn't have wanted to leave it for a maid to find, that she would want to do the right thing by Roy (though he hardly deserved it) and give it back, which would certainly be another kind of message altogether.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

After a quick repast at the hotel's breakfast bar, they were off on the last day of their journey, both of them feeling bittersweet that their three-day escape was about to come to an end.

"Whoever set up the itinerary for this trip must have been on something," Jim commented, as he pulled onto the interstate going south.

"It was someone in David Wallace's office," Pam said with a laugh. "It all came down to when each branch could schedule the time for the training. At least we don't have to handle the New York branches. The salesmen from Corporate who went to the Atlanta convention are handling those. There are six offices in New York State alone, so in some ways we got off easy. Besides…I'm not minding the long drive today…"

He reached over and picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Yeah, I guess it's not so bad." She smiled gently at him, squeezing his hand before he continued to hold hers on the console between them.

They had an unspoken agreement not to speak of heavy things, not to second guess last night's and the morning's revels. They had always enjoyed each other's company, after all, even before the mind-blowing sex, and the only difference now was that neither of them tried to ignore the constant hum of attraction between them, just everything else that awaited them back at Scranton.

And so they talked of small things, argued a little over radio stations, stopped along the way for bathroom breaks, lunch, and snacks. He let her take the wheel awhile while he dozed in the passenger's seat. They arrived at Trenton in the late afternoon and Jim gave his presentation, this time with more of the enthusiasm from the first couple of times. He supposed overwhelming happiness did that to a person. Their final destination was two and a half hours away, in Scranton

Pam was more subdued on this final leg, and she was almost glad when they hit traffic outside of Philly. She'd had plenty of time on the drive to think about what she would have to do now that she'd broken things off with Roy. She'd need a new place to live, for one thing. She'd called her cousin and best girlfriend, Isabel, when they'd stopped for lunch earlier, and she was happy for Pam to stay at her place for as long as she needed. Isabel had also had a few choice words about Roy, and Pam had always known what she'd thought of her fiancé. _Ex-_fiance. She would certainly have a supportive ally in her cousin.

But when the traffic finally thinned out, and they continued on their way north to Scranton, Pam felt herself begin to panic.

"What if we made a left, headed west to-to California?"

Jim laughed, taken aback. "What?"

"Yeah. We could run away from it all, leave Scranton and Dunder Mifflin behind us. Go find a warm beach in Southern California somewhere, where it never snows and the weather is always perfect. We could start all over, find new jobs that we love, maybe even go back to school. What's keeping us here, really?"

Jim glanced sidelong at her, his heart thumping as he allowed himself to consider it. She painted a beautiful, carefree picture. His vivid imagination conjured being completely alone with her in an exciting new city, with no Roy to interfere, no going to work at a dead-end job, digging his toes in the sand. Maybe getting a dog to jog with on the beach; eating lots of avocados…

"Our families are mainly in Pennsylvania, for one," he said, attempting to snap them back to reality. "We're both close to them. I'm pretty sure you'd miss yours terribly, especially your mom."

She shrugged. "That's what airplanes and telephones are for."

"Are you saying you'd leave them to start all over…with _me_?"

"Yes," she said, meeting his eyes as he turned to look at her. "It would be you and me against the world. Halpert and Beesly take on California."

"What about Halpert and _Halpert_?" he pressed softly, wanting to see just how far she might be willing to go.

Her eyes widened, and she glanced quickly away. "Maybe…eventually."

He nodded to himself, satisfied with her answer. He sighed. "We can't run away from this, Pam. But you're not gonna be alone, okay? I'll be here for you, whatever you need."

"I know. But it will be hard at first, with Roy…he's gonna try to talk me out of this, and if he finds out about you and me…it'll be a-a disaster."

He gave a humorless bark of laughter. "Yeah, you don't have to tell me that your ex could totally kick my ass. I'm well aware. But you tell him whatever you need to, to get free of him. Don't worry about me. I'd rather him take it out on me than on you."

"He wouldn't hurt me, if that's what you're thinking. I'm not afraid of him. I just hate confrontations, of any kind."

"I know," he said, squeezing her hand. "You don't want to hurt or upset anyone. Your first thought is always of others, not yourself. One of the things I love most about you."

She blushed. "Thank you. I wish I were as honorable as you think I am. I think you might be confusing selflessness with fear."

"Well I'm the last person to be judging you on that score. I've been afraid to tell you my true feelings for years. What does that say about me?"

"It says that you respected me enough to make my own decisions," she countered, "even when you disagreed with me. You've been a good friend to me, and whether you knew it or not, I couldn't have gotten through the last three years without you. When I think of all the times I complained to you about Roy, though—how did you keep from grabbing me and shaking some sense into me?"

He laughed. "Believe me, I have wanted to. But there have been more times I wanted to beat the living hell out of Roy for taking you for granted. And now I find out that he _cheated_ on you—God! What the fuck was wrong with him?"

Pam was quiet in the face of his passionate speech, and she looked at him now with so many regrets. Not that she had finally admitted her feelings for him to herself, or that she'd slept with him, but that she'd wasted so much time on a man who had never looked at her the way Jim did.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"Don't be. I'm so lucky that I have you on my side."

"I've _always_ been on your side."

She nodded. "I know. And I'm grateful." She exhaled in a long, cleansing breath. "I guess you're right though. I have to go back and face the mess I've made of my life."

Jim glanced over at her mischievously, dying for some comic relief to calm them both down. "Looks like there's gonna be a cleanup in aisle five," he said melodramatically.

She laughed, just as he'd intended.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They entered Scranton's city limits just after sundown, and Pam directed Jim to Isabel's apartment. They sat in his car in the parking lot a few minutes, dreading their separation, even though they'd see each other the next day at the office.

"You're welcome to stay with me," he offered, for the second time. He tried not to sound too hopeful, but failed.

"I would love to, but I need time to think, to plan-and no offense, Halpert, but you are very distracting, and tend to turn my brain to mush."

He grinned. "I guess I should take that as a compliment."

"You totally should. Besides, I could do with some girl talk. And how am I supposed to talk about _you_ with _you_?"

"So, you uh, plan to talk about me?"

"Definitely. In graphic detail."

He was glad it was dark so she couldn't see his blush. He also missed Pam's teasing smile.

"Well, okay then." He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to kiss her. His warm lips tempted her to forget all about Isabel and go anywhere he wanted to take her, but she resisted, her eyes watering with the willpower it took to leave him.

"I'd better go," she said against his mouth. "Isabel will be wondering where I am."

He reached up, brushed aside her bangs that had fallen from their clip, then kissed her sweetly once more.

"Okay."

They got out of the car, and he lifted her suitcase from the trunk, setting it down and lifting the handle so she could roll it.

"Thanks," she said, taking it from him. "Despite all the drama from last night, I had a great time." She smiled wryly, but her heart was pounding at the thought of letting him go.

"Me too." His eyes smarted with unshed tears, his throat grew tight. He'd never been so emotional around a woman before. Before she could say goodbye, he gathered her into his arms, kissing her with all the love and passion in his heart, and she dropped her luggage to bury her hands in his hair as she stood on tiptoes to better reach his mouth.

"I love you," he said, after dragging his lips from hers. "Everything will be all right, I promise."

She nodded, and he walked her to Isabel's ground floor apartment, holding her hand while she pulled her luggage with the other.

A tall, beautiful brunette in jeans and a Sixers t-shirt answered Pam's knock, and when he saw her sparkling eyes, so reminiscent of Pam's, Jim instantly liked her.

"Hey, cos," said Isabel, and gathered her cousin into her arms. Pam held tightly to her, the tears falling unchecked now. She pulled away, wiping her cheeks, then nodded to Jim.

"Isabel, this is Jim."

Isabel blatantly checked him out from head to toe, and Jim could feel his cheeks flushing at her direct appraisal. She had none of the subtlety of her cousin, that's for sure.

"Damn, Pam. You said he was cute, but you were totally holding back on me. He's adorable."

"Isabel!"

"Uh, thanks?" said Jim at the same time.

Isabel laughed at both of their reactions. "You want to come in, Jim?"

"Oh, no thanks. I hear I'd just be in the way of all the girl talk." And he winked at Pam. Jim resisted touching her again, unsure despite Pam's teasing, how much she planned to tell her cousin about them.

"If you change your mind and need a ride to work tomorrow, let me know."

"I'll drop her on my way to the dentist's office," said Isabel. Pam had mentioned she was a dental hygienist. "Don't worry your pretty little head about her."

Jim chuckled. "Okay. Good night, Pam."

"Night," replied Pam, her eyes bright in the porch light. "See you tomorrow."

"Nice meeting you, Isabel."

"Likewise."

And with a last glance of longing at Pam, Jim turned and walked slowly back to his car. He heard the two women giggling behind him before they closed Isabel's apartment door.

**A/N: Thanks for reading. And for the sake of my fic, let's pretend Isabel hasn't moved to Carbondale yet, where she lives in season 6**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Strap on your seatbelts for this one folks, things are about to get bumpy.**

**Chapter 6**

"So, I want details," said Isabel, settling in for a good tale, tucking her legs under her on her overstuffed couch.

On the cushion next to her cousin, Pam blushed, covering her embarrassment with a hasty drink of Moscato.

"Come on, Pam. You can't tell me you and Jim did it without telling me the good stuff. For instance, did he go dow—?"

"Isabel!" Pam exclaimed, mortified. But she only stared at Pam in amusement, waiting expectantly.

"Ok, yes," Pam confessed, wilting under peer pressure.

Isabel grinned. "And was it good?" Her red face was answer enough. "Way to go, Jim," Isabel praised. She knew from previous discussions with Pam that Roy only did that occasionally, and not always with great success.

"Was he big?" Isabel asked, more for Pam's reaction than any real curiosity.

Pam covered her face with her spare hand. "Oh, my God, Isabel."

"Well, was he?"

"A lady wouldn't tell," hedged Pam from under her palm.

"Was he bigger than Roy at least?"

Pam hesitated, then, gave one quick nod. Isabel laughed.

"How many times did you-?"

"Three."

"And did you-?"

"Every time."

"Wow," said Isabel, impressed. "Nice to know he's as good as he looks."

Pam laughed then, dropping her hand. "He is. And you know, he's not just an amazing lover, he's such a good person, Izzy. Just beautiful, inside and out. Funny, smart, patient, kind—"

"Incredibly hot," Isabel finished.

"There's that," Pam agreed. "Definitely that. God, he makes me dizzy just standing next to him, even before we…and now, I don't know how I'm going to function at work with him five feet away. I mean, just the sight of his hands…"

Isabel's eyebrows rose speculatively. "His hands? Oh, really? Please, do tell."

But then Pam's phone rang, and she reached for it on the coffee table to glance at the number, expecting once again for it to be Roy. The last call from him had been about an hour before, followed by an unknown number she'd ignored as likely a sales call. Roy had been calling her on and off all day, and she'd ignored him, letting it add to the voice mails that she hadn't had the stomach to listen to yet. But it wasn't Roy this time; it was his mother's number. Brows knitted, she cautiously pressed the answer button and brought the phone to her ear.

"Gloria?"

"Pam! Are you back from your trip yet? You have to come! Roy's been in an accident!"

"What?" Pam sat up straight on the couch, her eyes wide.

Gloria Anderson's voice was shaky and filled with tears. "I told him he was still too sick to drive, and he'd just had some Nyquil, but he went out anyway. Are you almost home, Pam? We're at the hospital. You have to come right away!"

"How—how bad is he?" she asked, her own eyes filling with tears.

"He wasn't wearing a seatbelt. He ran into a tree with his truck, and his head banged into the windshield. He's all bruised up-what if he has some serious brain injury? He hasn't woken up yet. He's getting a CT scan now. Please come, Pam. I don't know if I can take it if he—"

"I'm on my way," she said, stopping Roy's mother from suggesting the worst. "Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be all right." She hung up, shaken to her core, guilt and fear warring within her for dominance.

Mrs. Anderson had spoken so loudly that Isabel had heard the entire conversation.

"I'll drive you," her cousin said, standing and moving quickly to the door to slip on her tennis shoes and grab her coat and bag. Pam still was sitting numbly on the couch, paralyzed.

"Pam!" said Isabel. "We have to go."

Startled into action, Pam rose and mimicked Isabel's actions: shoes, coat, purse. She was wearing sweats and a t-shirt with her work flats, her dirty travel clothes in Isabel's washing machine so she'd have something to wear to work in the morning.

On the way to the hospital, Pam listened to Roy's voicemail, just to further torture herself. The messages ranged in emotion from anger to pleading, to the last one, where he sounded totally wasted, his voice garbled and slurred. She knew then he'd been operating under the influence of alcohol on top of the nighttime cold medicine.

_"__Please, Pammy. I'm gonna change, I swear. Gimme a chance. Don't leave me. I couldn't survive—"_ And then she heard the terrible sound of the crash, and she jumped in her seat, gasping in horror as she heard a wrenching sound she thankfully couldn't identify, before the call was mercifully cut off.

"Oh, my God," she said, the tears coursing down her cheeks. Before she could hang up, the next voice mail played, this time from the unknown number.

_"__Pam Beesly? This is Officer Hinton of the Scranton Police Department. We have just taken a Roy Anderson to Scranton Memorial Hospital. He's been in a serious accident. This is the last number he called on his cell phone. We're going on to the next number, in case you don't get this message soon. It's 9:45 pm."_

"Oh, my God," Pam repeated. They were almost to the hospital when Pam called Jim.

"Hey," said his deep, comforting voice, so happy to hear from her.

"Jim," she breathed, allowing the sound and thought of him to wash over her, soothing her from afar. She closed her eyes, just for a moment.

"Uh, I'm on my way to the hospital. Roy's been in an accident. It's not sound-sounding good." She swallowed over a tight throat, new tears falling unabated.

"Are you okay? You want me to meet you at the hospital?"

She wanted to say yes, but a flash of memory, of her lying in Jim's arms just that morning, hit her with guilt.

"No. No thank you. I—I just wanted to tell you what happened, so you wouldn't worry in case I'm not at work in the morning. So you can tell Michael." _And I just needed to hear your voice, _she finished to herself.

"Are you okay?" he asked again.

"No. I mean. I don't know yet. I'll let you know later how he is. Oh, God, Jim. This is all my fault," she confessed in a rush.

"How could it be your fault, Pam? You weren't there."

"Yeah, but he's been trying to call me all day and I ignored him. And he was drunk—"

"Don't blame yourself. He chose to drive drunk. And you didn't answer him because you were pissed at him. You deserved to be angry—"

"But I do," she cried. "I do blame myself. Look, I'll call you later, Jim, okay?"

"Okay. I'm here if you need me, or if you want me there. Call anytime, okay? I hate not being there with you."

"Isabel's here," she said, as they pulled up into the ER parking lot. "We're at the hospital now. I gotta go."

"All right. And hey, Pam, I love you."

"I—I'll uh, talk to you later." And she hung up, slipping her phone absently into her coat pocket as Isabel parked and they got out of the car. Pam was both warmed and newly guilt-ridden by his profession of love, especially when she'd almost said it back without thinking.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

From the way Mrs. Anderson sounded and the crash she'd heard in Roy's voicemail, she had expected Roy to look unrecognizable, or maybe wrapped mummy-like in bandages, so she and Isabel entered the ER with considerable dread. Mrs. Anderson immediately pulled Pam in for a hug, then even hugged Isabel, though they'd only met a few times before. Roy lay pale against the white hospital sheets, except for the mottled bruising on his face. There was a bandage over a cut above his right eye. An IV was hooked up to his left arm, while the other arm was in a cast.

"Did he wake up yet?" asked Pam, walking gingerly to stand beside her ex-fiancé. She wondered briefly if he'd told his mother about their breakup over the phone. She kind of doubted it, given her warm welcome.

"No. And we're still waiting for the CT results. His arm is broken, poor dear. But oh, Pam, what if he never wakes up?"

Pam turned back to Roy's mother and hugged her again, rubbing her back to try to comfort her. She had always babied her youngest, and that was probably part of Roy's problem—he'd been spoiled his whole life, first by his mother, then by her. Roy's father had passed from a heart attack a few years before, and had doted on his two sons. To make up for his loss, Gloria gave attention to their sons enough for the both of them. It also didn't help that Gloria Anderson was a little on the melodramatic side, and Pam was kicking herself for overreacting to her hysterics on the phone.

At that moment, the doctor returned with an update and a Scranton police officer. Pam read the last name _Hinton_ on his name plate. The same officer who'd left the message on her phone.

The scrub-clad doctor gave his succinct report: "Roy doesn't seem to have any serious brain injuries, but he has a severe concussion, so he'll feel achy and maybe nauseated for a few days. Some memory loss surrounding the accident can be expected, but shouldn't last long. He also had alcohol and cold medicine in his blood, which is likely what is keeping him from waking up. Once he sleeps it off, he should start to recover quickly. He's going to need some help for a while, given his right arm is broken and he's going to be in some pain from being thrown around in his vehicle. I'd also like to keep him overnight for observation, and so we can keep him hydrated and give him pain meds if he needs them. We'll move him to a private room soon."

"Thank you, Doctor," Mrs. Anderson said in relief, hugging him too. The doctor withstood it stoically, smiled blandly at all of them, and moved on to his next patient. The policeman cleared his throat.

"I'm glad Mr. Anderson is going to be okay, but there is the matter of his driving while intoxicated, and driving without a seatbelt. We also have reason to believe, given the time of his last cell phone call, that he was using his phone while driving. I'm afraid he'll have to go before a judge once he is physically able."

"What? A judge?" Gloria Anderson exclaimed! "I know he had some Nyquil, but, drunk driving? That's not like Roy!"

Pam purposefully remained silent. That was actually _exactly_ like Roy. He'd driven home drunk so many times, she'd lost count, even though she'd always begged him to call her, or even a cab if he'd had more than a couple drinks. One more thing he'd never listened to her about.

"Sorry, ma'am," the officer was saying. "I'll be by in the morning to get him to get his statement, and have him sign the police report and the traffic violation tickets. You might want to consider getting him a lawyer, considering this is his second DUI."

Pam and Gloria looked at each other in shock. "His _second_?" Pam asked, recovering first from the shock. "He never mentioned the first time."

"He would likely have had to pay a fine and do some community service, as well as attend alcohol education classes," said Hinton.

"He hid it from us," said Pam, feeling the anger of another betrayal.

Officer Hinton didn't show any surprise. He'd likely heard it all. "At any rate, he'll need a lawyer, though the court will appoint him one if he can't afford it. At the very least, his driver's license will probably be suspended, and there could be some short jail time. We take these things seriously in Pennsylvania. He's lucky he didn't kill himself, or someone else. I'll be by in the morning, as I said. Good night."

The three of them stood together in the awkward silence after he left, looking at Roy and avoiding each other's eyes.

"I'll get us some coffee," Isabel finally offered, breaking the silence. Pam envied her escape.

Pam and Mrs. Anderson sat in the hard chairs near his bed, while Gloria cried softly, dabbing her eyes with a Kleenex. Pam, relief at his prognosis of recovery and with renewed annoyance at yet another of Roy's deception, found she had no more tears for her ex.

Once he was put in a private room, Pam got up to leave. She felt no obligation to sit with him all night, especially since his mother was there. Kenny, Roy's brother, they found, was at home sleeping off his own overindulgence—it hadn't been a surprise that he'd been with Roy at the bar before they'd gone their separate ways. Around midnight, Isabel took Pam back to her place, where Pam slept like a log on Isabel's couch until her phone alarm went off at seven the next morning.

She'd slept through Jim's texts.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pam didn't go by the hospital the next morning, but she did call Mrs. Anderson to check on him. She ignored the note of disapproval in her voice, promising to come by after work—sooner if he was released from the hospital before that. She didn't mention that she hadn't slept in the bed she used to share with Roy.

When Pam came into the office, sleepy eyed, Jim immediately got to his feet and stood beside her desk, watching anxiously as she hung up her coat, put her purse in her desk, and turned on her computer. He ached to touch her, to hold her, to kiss the dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Hey," he said. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, managed a tired smile. "Yeah. He'll be all right. Just sore for a while, and he broke his arm. Sorry I missed your messages. I was exhausted last night."

He nodded, though when she looked at him closely, she could see the tightness around his mouth and eyes. He'd been worried about her, she realized, and her face softened.

"I'm fine," she said softly, desiring more than anything one of his soothing bear hugs. But by then, more of the staff began coming in for the morning, and Jim followed her to the kitchen where she gratefully poured herself some coffee that Jim had brewed since he'd come in so early. He glanced around, quickly, and seeing no one was watching, caved in and drew her into his arms. Her hands slid to his back, her face on his chest, listening to the comforting beat of his heart.

She felt his kiss on top of her head, closed her eyes and absorbed his love and strength. It was Toby that interrupted them on his way through to the annex.

"Is everything all right here?" he asked, with genuine concern, though Jim recognized a trace of disapproval, or maybe even jealousy in the mild- mannered HR guy.

Pam pulled away immediately in embarrassment. "Sorry. Jim was just comforting me because of Roy. He was in an accident last night. He's in the hospital with a concussion and a broken arm. I don't know when he will be able to come back to work."

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry. I hope he feels better soon. I'll let Corporate know. Have you told Michael?"

"Not yet. He hasn't come in. I should also tell Darryl downstairs, I guess."  
"I'll take care of that," Toby offered helpfully. "You have some personal days, Pam, if you need to take them to be with Roy. I'm sure Michael won't have any problems with that."

"It's uh, better if I work," said Pam. "Roy's mother is with him."

Toby looked confused, but he was polite enough not to comment. "Oh. Okay. Well, give Roy my best."

"I will. Thanks, Toby."

Alone again, Jim and Pam looked at each other, the longing and desire humming between them. Any minute the rest of the office would wander in for morning coffee, so they couldn't afford to indulge in another embrace without tipping off that they were…well Jim didn't know what the hell they were.

She'd said on the phone last night that she blamed herself for Roy's accident, and he wondered if that guilt would transfer to her trying to make it work with Roy again, or at the very least, take care of him while he was hurt. Either way, Jim felt distinctly out in the cold. Again.

"I'm here for you," he managed to get out before Dwight came into the kitchen, his eyes boring deep into hers.

"I know," she whispered. "Talk later?"

"Yeah."

"There are other people who need coffee, you know," said Dwight pointedly, since they were blocking the counter.

"Good morning to you too, Dwight," said Jim with mock cheer. Pam grabbed her mug and made her escape, while Jim purposefully turned to the coffee pot, taking his time hunting for his favorite cup, filling it, adding the last of the sugar and most of the cream—which he normally didn't use-so that by the time he'd finished, Dwight was in a gratifying huff.

"Have a good day," Jim said with a wide grin, leaving Dwight mumbling about slackers and wasting company time. The door had just closed when Dwight discovered there was no more sugar.

"Dammit, Jim!"

It felt good to take out a little of his frustration on Dwight; he totally deserved it, in Jim's mind anyway. But as he made his way back to his desk, he noticed through Michael's open office blinds that Pam was in there, no doubt informing him of Roy's condition. His suspicions were confirmed when Michael dramatically opened his door and gave a loud, suffering moan.

"Friends! Romans! Countrymen! Lend me your ears! I'm very sad to inform you of some terrible, terrible news. Roy Anderson was in a horrible, bloody accident last night—"

There was a collective gasp in the bullpen, all eyes going to Pam.

"There wasn't much blood." Pam interrupted, as Kelly, Ryan, and Toby emerged from the Annex at the noise.

"He badly mangled one of his limbs—"Michael continued.

"He has a broken arm," Pam calmly explained to her rapt coworkers.

"And he suffered serious, possibly irreparable head trauma." Michael's face was a study in anguish, though now everyone was mainly paying attention to Pam.

"He has a concussion," she clarified simply. "And a small cut on his forehead."

"Roy may never work again!" Michael exclaimed.

Pam tried really hard not to roll her eyes, and she didn't dare look at Jim, whose own eyes sparkled at her predicament, though his face remained respectfully passive.

"I'm sure he'll be back in a week or two," Pam said, as if Michael hadn't spoken at all. "He is supposed to be released from the hospital today."

There were a few questions of concern and offers of sympathy, and Angela and Phyllis met each other's eyes, preparing to jump into action with requests for money for flowers and a card. Pam answered her friends in turn, before Michael hugged her uncomfortably tightly, and she patted his back as if _he_ were the one needing the condolences.

"You are such a stoic," he said into her hair. She tried not to offend him by cringing. "So brave. I can't believe you're not falling apart under the gigantic weight of your worry."

"I'm fine, Michael. Thank you," she said breathlessly, her lungs straining in his vicelike hold. She met Jim's eyes over Michael's shoulder. He smirked and raised his eyebrows in amusement. Pam had to use all her strength to pull free of Michael's arms, and she nearly stumbled as he abruptly let her go.

"I might need to leave early today to help his mom get him settled at home, if that's okay."

"Of course, Pamela. Take all the time you need. Help our poor boy regain his strength with your sweet, tender love."

"I will, Michael."

When their boss returned to his office, Jim gave her his widest smile.

_"__Bite me,"_ she mouthed.

"If that's what you're into, Beesly," he replied so only she could hear. "Maybe later." He'd walked to the Reception counter. His eyes were dark with inuendo, and she blushed, as he'd intended.

"Would you like me to take you to the hospital later," he offered, and she realized that yes, she'd need a ride.

"That would be great," she said.

"Cool. Just let me know when."

She smiled her thanks.

Feeling pleased to finally be of use to her, he tapped her desk with his fingertips and returned to his desk to at least try to get some work done. His head was still spinning as to where he stood with her, combining with his wild attraction to her, his remembrance of how she'd felt, her body rising to meet his, the sound of her passionate cries, her sensual moans echoing in his addled brain.

He hoped he didn't go totally crazy before he could be alone with her again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Where's Pam," Roy asked his mother groggily, upon waking at ten-thirty that morning.

He hurt everywhere, especially his head and his arm, and he was angry to see the white cast on top of his white hospital blanket. He was also wearing a blue hospital gown, which made him feel like he was dressed in one of his mom's muumuus. For a moment, he was disoriented, then he remembered getting drunk with Kenny at Poor Richard's before calling Pam for the millionth time as he drove home in the truck. He'd only taken his eyes off the road a second when he'd felt the impact of his truck plowing into a pole or a tree or something, a sickening jolt, and then everything went black from there.

"She'll be here soon," said his mother. "I'll call her in a minute. Thank God you're awake. I was so worried. I slept here all night beside your bed. The doctor said you might have some memory loss, but that will come back in time. What do you remember?"

In the course of his mother's tearful rambling, it all came back. Everything from two nights ago, when Pam broke up with him over the phone. That night, he'd been too sick to go to her, or to go to a bar, which was what he'd really wanted to do. His mother had been constantly hovering over him, which he normally loved, but he'd just wanted to break out, to break something, definitely to drink something. So, when he'd assured her he was well enough that she could go back home for the night, and after he'd taken the Nyquil she'd forced on him, he'd called Kenny and met him at Poor Richard's. It hadn't been fun. He'd been sick and woozy the whole evening, and when he'd realized he'd had enough, he'd staggered to his truck and gone home.

When he didn't answer his mother right away, she moved on with her monologue. "Pam was so concerned last night. You should have seen her, Roy. But I insisted she go home because she was exhausted from rushing home from her business trip to get here to you."

"Pam was here?"

"Of course she was. Her sweet cousin Isabel even came with her. What a nice girl, to support her cousin like that. But Roy, why'd you get behind the wheel when you'd had too much to drink last night? You should have called me. I oughta beat Kenny's butt for letting you drive in that condition. What got you so upset that you had to drown your troubles in the first place? Do you remember?"

And then, without a second thought, he looked directly at his mother, affecting the wide-eyed innocent expression that had gotten him out of trouble with her his whole life.

"I don't remember, Ma," he lied. "I don't remember anything."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jim drove Pam to the hospital at noon, according to Mrs. Anderson, the expected time when Roy was to be released from the hospital. When they were in the car, all he'd wanted to do was pull her to him and kiss her, but he didn't know what was allowed now, didn't know what she was thinking. It was so hard to believe that they'd been in this same car just yesterday, driving away from the hotel room where he'd made love to her over and over. The silence between them wasn't awkward exactly; it was just…silent.

When they parked outside Scranton Memorial, he turned to her.

"I'm coming up with you," he announced. "I'll stay in the waiting room, but I want to be here for you, in case you need anything, okay?"

He was expecting a fight, or at least being put gently in his place. But she surprised him by reaching for his hand, leaning over the console to press her soft lips to his cheek.

"Thank you. I'd like that."

He smiled. "Good. Okay, then."

"You don't have to wait in the waiting room," she said in the elevator, still holding his hand. "You're a coworker. It wouldn't be that odd for you to be here for moral support."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Roy's gonna just have to deal. You're just _one _of the reasons I broke up with him." She smiled. "The most important, of course, but there were so many other reasons. Mainly, it was the sneakiness, the lack of trust. I'll always care about him, and I'm here now to make sure he's okay, to help his mother, whose always been good to me. After this, though, I'm done. I'll make that totally clear to him too."

He grinned, proud of her and immeasurably happy for himself, for _them_. "Okay, Beesly. I believe you."

Just before the elevator stopped on the sixth floor, Jim bent and kissed her, quickly but thoroughly, as if trying to impress upon her that she was his, that he was hers, wanting to leave no doubt where he stood.

He hung back just inside the door to Roy's room, watchful and mindful of the potential awkwardness of the situation. He could see Roy in his hospital bed, and the older woman he assumed was his mother. Kenny was there too, looking haggard and obviously hungover. Roy's family welcomed her with open arms, leaving Jim to realize that they didn't know about her and Roy. He supposed last night, in the middle of a medical crisis, hadn't been the best time to announce their breakup.

Roy, however, lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw Pam, startling him completely, since the last time Pam had spoken to Roy (to his knowledge), he'd been telling her to fuck off.

"Pammy," he exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're here! Look at me. I'm a mess, right? Good thing we haven't set a date yet. You wouldn't want your groom having to be pushed down the aisle in a wheelchair." He laughed good-naturedly. "And I'm real sorry about this, babe. About driving drunk, getting the police involved. I don't know what I was thinking. God, I don't remember _anything_ at all since you left the other day with Michael. I guess I've been so sick with the flu, and then the accident…everything's a big, black blank."

Jim stiffened. _The bastard didn't remember?_ His eyes flew to Pam's back, ramrod straight, and he knew without seeing her face that she was as surprised as he was.

"Seriously?" she managed.

"Remember, the doctor said there could be some memory loss," Gloria Anderson said. "I guess he was right, poor baby." She reached over and patted her son's cheek.

"I guess I'm gonna need some help doing stuff with this bum arm," Roy continued, looking adoringly at Pam. "You'll have to help me bathe and even use the can. Guess you'll have some good practice with the _in sickness and health_ part of your wifely duties." He chuckled, then his hand flew to his head in pain. "Sorry; it hurts when I laugh."

Pam said nothing to that, but she turned and glanced quickly at Jim, her eyes round with shock.

"Oh, hey, Halpert," called Roy. "Thanks for comin', man. Come on in and join the party."

And like a condemned man walking toward his executioner, Jim walked numbly into Roy's hospital room.

**A/N: I guess that took a turn, didn't it? More on the way. Thanks as always to those who are out there reading this. I'd love to hear what you think.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It was Monday, and everyone that had been out of the office with the flu was now back (except for Roy), including the documentary crew. Naturally, they grabbed Jim for a talking head the moment he got there, and he sat in the conference room, mentally preparing to lie his ass off.

"So," began the producer off camera, "you ended up going with Pam for that training tour. How'd that go?"

Jim shrugged. "It went great. We hit all the branches on schedule, met some great people, got home Thursday night. Then, you probably heard about Roy's accident. That's why Pam isn't here today. She's at home taking care of him—but I guess she's where she needs to be, right?"

Jim thought back on Friday afternoon, when he'd taken Pam to the hospital where she was going to see Roy settled at home with his mom before ending it once and for all. But the moment they'd seen Roy, all sheepish smiles and joking about Pam helping him use the bathroom—his heart had sunk into his stomach because he knew what she would do with that. Sure enough, she'd believed Roy's memory loss, couldn't hit him with the truth, not when he was in such bad shape, not when he needed her.

And so she'd gone with Roy, his mother, and Kenny back to the apartment she'd shared with Roy for years. He'd watched them leave the hospital together, piling into Mrs. Anderson's old Cadillac, Pam waving to him despondently through the backseat window as he stood like a chump near the hospital exit.

He supposed he couldn't blame her, knowing what a good person Pam was. Even _he_ had believed Roy, welcoming Jim like an old friend visiting him in the hospital. He certainly hadn't looked like a guy who'd suspected him of having an affair with his fiancé. He'd shaken Jim's hand laughingly and awkwardly with his left hand, thanked him for seeing Pam safely to the hospital. He'd given no clue that he'd even known Jim had been the one with his girl alone for three days, and not their boss. Jim didn't think Roy could have been that good of an actor. But then again, if he _was_ acting, he was fighting to keep Pam, something Jim could understand, even though he'd never actually done it himself.

_God_.

"So," the producer was saying, "did anything exciting happen on the trip? Anything we missed out on?"

Jim knew what they were asking. They'd been there filming on the Booze Cruise, after all, had heard his confession to Michael on the cold upper deck of the boat that night. They wanted to know if he'd finally made a move on Pam.

"Not really," replied Jim. "Don't get me wrong—it was fun to get away for a few days. But no, you guys didn't miss anything."

They finished up with some small talk about the Great Flu Epidemic of Dunder Mifflin Scranton, and then they let him go. The moment he left the conference room, Michael beckoned him into his office. Jim sighed internally.

_Out of the frying pan…_

Jim exchanged eye rolls with Ryan, who was manning Reception in Pam's absence, and, after shutting Michael's door, he sat in the chair opposite Michael's desk. Normally, being summoned in to talk privately with his boss was an annoyance and a huge waste of time, but for once Jim found he didn't mind the distraction. He was going a little crazy, thinking of Pam helping Roy bathe, maybe sleeping with him in their old bed…

"Hey, after all the craziness last Friday, with Roy's accident and all, I didn't get a chance to talk to you about your trip. Everything go okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. The training seemed to be well received. I think all the salespeople looked like they'd at least try some of the methods, so you can report to David Wallace that the mission was pretty much accomplished."

Michael chuckled. "Selling to salesmen is like trying to sell snow to Eskimos," he said, somewhat politically incorrect.

Jim nodded, even flashed a brief grin. "Definitely. Glad you seem to have recovered from the flu," Jim offered politely.

"Yeah, man, that was not fun. Not fun at all. I can't believe the human nose can contain so much snot. I mean, where does it come from? You blow it out and it just keeps making more."

Jim blanched. "Well that's gross."

"Tell me about it. And speaking of not fun, I haven't heard from Pam today. Guess she's playing Florence Nightingale for her hubby-to-be. I hate to be the one to break it to Roy, but if he's convicted of this DUI, we're gonna have to let him go. Guess I'll get Toby to do that bit of dirty work—maybe he's good for something."

"You guys are firing Roy?"

"Yeah. He's one of our drivers. We can't have a driver on staff with a DUI conviction."

"Yeah, right," said Jim, his mind racing. Roy, gone? He could hardly imagine what it would be like not to have to look over his shoulder when Roy was around, especially when Roy found out that Pam was his now. Or so Jim hoped. He'd gone three years knowing Pam belonged to someone else, lived with someone else, had sex with him. But now that he'd had her, this made it so much worse. Now that he knew how she tasted, the sounds she made in the midst of their passion—the torture of it was nearly unbearable.

A few more minutes of small talk and Michael's inherent silliness, and Jim was back at his desk, forcing himself to do something productive. He'd gotten a couple of texts from Pam, but just checking in, asking how his day was going, saying noncommittally that hers was fine, that Roy still needed a lot of help. _Yeah, I bet,_ thought Jim uncharitably.

She gave him no real details, and he didn't ask, which Jim supposed was probably a good thing. His imagination was already productive enough without any actual details feeding into it.

By five, Jim was out the door, escaping the camera crew, who was breaking down their equipment. He was hoping that maybe Pam would find time to at least call him tonight, maybe give him an idea of how long she would need to martyr herself. And so it was with great surprise that he saw Pam in her little car, waiting in the spot next to his.

She rolled down her window and smiled.

"Hey. Get in."

He smiled back, so happy to see her. He got into the passenger side, laughing with her as he folded his long body inside of her economy car. Despite being in full view of anyone of the rest of the office staff, he couldn't resist: he leaned over to kiss her. Her hands moved to his cheeks, and she opened her mouth beneath his. He felt so relieved to have her in his arms again—that imagination of his had invented the worst case scenario: Pam had changed her mind and gone back to Roy. As his lips moved over hers, some of his doubts evaporated, and he allowed himself to enjoy just being close to her.

"Hi," he said softly, when they came up for air.

"Let's take a drive. I told Roy I was going out to pick up dinner, so I can't be too long."

He looked at her pointedly as she reached over to start the car. His hand covered hers on the ignition. "Why not?" he dared ask, heart pounding.

"I—" she swallowed, looking away guiltily. "He can't do much for himself right now. His mother went home, and he still hasn't gotten his memory back."

Jim lowered his hand. "Are you absolutely sure about that?"

She turned back to him, wide-eyed. "What do you mean?"

He'd been thinking about this during the long, lonely weekend. "It would be in his best interest to keep _forgetting_," he said. "Don't you think?"

She was quiet, which strangely emboldened him. "Given how he's treated you lately, I wouldn't put it past him."

"Maybe," she said hesitantly. "I don't know. He's been so…_nice_, though, this past weekend. Grateful for my help. I would feel like a real heel leaving him like this, kicking him while he's down."

"Exactly," said Jim. "You're a kind, responsible person, Pam. And Roy knows this."

All around them in the parking lot, the cars began to disappear as their coworkers left for the day. Some waved politely when they saw Pam, but most were so focused on getting out of there, they took little notice. Except of course, for Dwight, who took it as his personal responsibility to notice everything that happened on the Dunder Mifflin premises. They both jumped when he knocked loudly on Pam's window.

"Pamela," he said loudly through the glass. "You were not at work today."

Pam caught Jim's eye and they both gave shudders of extreme annoyance. She didn't bother rolling down the window.

"I was taking care of Roy."

"I'll be telling Michael you happen to show up conveniently _after_ work. Apparently if you are here now, Roy doesn't need as much care as you say."

"Would you like to go help him use the bathroom, Dwight? You try doing that with only one hand."

Dwight frowned. "I _always_ use one hand. I only have one—"

Jim reached over and honked the horn on the steering wheel, making Dwight jump back suddenly and swear.

"Good-bye, Dwight," Jim yelled. "This is none of your freakin' business."

"I'm gonna tell Michael. On both of you. This seems to me like a conspiracy to defraud the company."

"You do that, Dwight. And I'll file a counter complaint for harassment. We're off the clock. And this is in the parking lot, where you have no jurisdiction as hall monitor."

He hesitated. "Fine. But I expect you both to be at work as soon as possible, or there'll be hell to pay."

Jim honked again for good measure, taking sadistic pleasure in seeing Dwight jump again. When he protested, Jim honked over his yelling till he gave up and moved away.

"Asshole," he muttered under his breath. Pam grinned, and Jim happened to see that, once Dwight left, theirs would be the only two vehicles left in the lot, save for the doc crew van.

"Let's go," he said, with a sudden sense of urgency.

"Where?" she asked, starting the car.

"My place."

She nodded, and drove out onto the street, her mind still on the fact that Roy was home alone waiting for her to bring back dinner, but at the same time she was desperate to be with Jim, to try to explain why she was putting them all through this.

She remembered the way to his place without asking, though she'd only been there the one time for his barbecue a few months before. Okay, so she'd driven by a time or two since, but she'd been in the area (sorta) and she'd just been curious…At any rate, her heart was pounding in response to Jim's similar agitation. And he wasn't talking to her, which increased her own anxiety.

"You're angry with me," she ventured softly at a stoplight.

His face swiveled to hers. "No. No, of course not. Not at you. With the situation." He sighed, ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm just frustrated. And frankly, scared to death."

"Why?"

But the light had turned green, and a honk from the car behind her drew her attention back to the road, and she accelerated jerkily, Jim's hand moving to the dash at the sudden jolt. She felt her face flush with embarrassment.

"Well, right now I'm scared shitless of your driving," he said, with a flash of his natural humor.

"Sorry," she said.

"You know, I got _you_ home safely from a drive three days out of state, and you can't even get me home from the office."

"Shut up," she said, her heart expanding at his teasing. She was rewarded with one of his beautiful smiles, which, though fleeting, warmed her from the inside.

A few minutes later, and she was parking in the driveway of his split-level house.

"Mark's working late tonight," he said. "Come in for a minute, so we can talk."

"Okay," she said.

He let them inside with his key, and he had every intention of just talking, of expressing his unhappiness with everything, of putting words to his fears—but the moment his front door shut behind them, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her with all the pent up emotions of the last four days, namely, a desperate, overwhelming passion. Her arms snaked around him just as tightly as his, and she kissed him as if she hadn't seen him in years. Somehow, they stumbled up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom, heedless now of any of her imagined obligations.

There were no preliminaries—he unzipped and pulled down her jeans and panties, while she did the same with his slacks and boxer briefs, and they fell unceremoniously onto the bed, toeing off their shoes at the same time. His lips still fused to hers, he slid into her body, already slick and ready. He gasped into her mouth and immediately began to move within her. It was frenzied and wild and incredibly sensual. Neither of them had ever felt such mindless need, and they were both surprised when it ended so quickly, each of them reaching their peaks in mere moments, their harsh cries of ecstasy filling Jim's dim bedroom.

Pulse deafening in his ears, he fell on top of her, his harsh breaths matching her own. He was still in his suitcoat, shirt and tie, she in her unzipped sweatshirt and tee. Her hands came up to weave into his messy hair, her knees bending, still cradling him inside of her.

Jim laughed in her ear in breathless wonder. "God, I missed you," he said.

She smiled, kissing the side of his head. "I couldn't tell."

Realizing suddenly how he must be crushing her, he rolled off her, laying on his back beside her in the middle of his full-size bed—seeming so much smaller than it had when he'd been on top of her, inside of her. He stared at the old popcorn ceiling, trying to calm down.

A dark thought returned, and he couldn't help the words that poured out of his mouth: "Have you been sleeping with him?"

"No," she said immediately. "I—I told him I didn't want to jostle his arm or head, so I've been sleeping on the couch."

He couldn't deny the immediate rush of relief he felt, but he was still fearful, and she was apparently still living the ruse, pretending like nothing had happened, that she hadn't thrown Roy's ring against the hotel wall and made love to another man.

"Have you helped him…undress, helped him in the bathroom…"

"Yes," she admitted. "But it's all felt very…clinical. Any attraction I ever had for him is gone, Jim, I promise you, especially after Nashua."

Jim swallowed, hating himself, but unable to stop with the questions. After so many years of imagining her with Roy, and even despite what they'd just done minutes before, he was still insecure, afraid that she would get back with Roy, that she had just had sex with him out of vengeance or desire, rather than love—which, by the way, she hadn't expressed in words yet.

"What are you going to do?" he asked. "I mean, how long is this gonna go on with him?"

He didn't like how whiny he sounded, how he was like "the other man," begging his girlfriend to leave her husband, secretly knowing it would never happen. He'd never wanted to be in this position—had actively avoided it these last three years.

She sat up, looked down at him where he still lay flat on the bed, brushed a fallen lock of her hair behind her ear. It was like déjà vu from that time on his hotel room bed, when she'd asked for more time after her broken engagement, but then had been carried away by his touch, by his kisses.

"I know I'm asking a lot of you," she said, "and I hate myself for lying to his family, and yeah, even to him. This—this just really sucks." And she was mad at herself all over again when she felt the tears filling her eyes; crying always made her feel so weak. She wiped angrily at her cheeks, but he was reaching for her again, pulling her down so he could kiss away her tears.

"Hey, I'm sorry for piling the pressure on you," he told her between kisses. "I want you—and I already told you I needed all of you for this to work, that I'm willing to wait, and I am. But now that we've been together, it just makes it ten times more difficult to imagine you there with him, in that place you shared, taking care of him like he's your husband. I'm not gonna lie; it's driving me insane."

She gave him a watery smile. "I know. I feel the same way. But somehow, despite all he's done, all his lies, I can't just erase ten years overnight. It's like I'm trying to quit smoking or drugs or something. I know it's bad for me, but I keep repeating the same habits. But his hearing is on Friday, and he's told me he's going to plead guilty, hoping the judge'll go easy on him. His lawyer is saying he'll get up to three months in jail, given the accident and the amount of alcohol in his system that night. After that, well…"

So, he thought, feeling the hurt in the pit of his stomach, instead of deciding for herself to leave him, she was letting the court decide for her. He sat up then, and she moved in surprise out of his way. He slipped off his suit coat, unbuttoned his top shirt button and tore off his tie in agitation. Then he reached around on the floor for his underwear. She watched his movements, hating that she'd spoiled things once again with her words, with her indecision.

"I should go," she said, but made no move to do so. She met his eyes, but he looked self-consciously away.

"You probably should," he said, hurting her on purpose with his coldness. He regretted it instantly, but she was already getting up and finding her own discarded clothes and shoes, putting them back on with shaky hands.

"Pam—"

"No, I get it. And you're right. I'm not really free, am I, despite apparently being unable to stay out of bed with you. I know what that makes me sound like."

"No, sweetheart-Pam, please, I didn't mean—"

She paused, forestalling his movements toward her with a raised hand. "_This_ won't happen again until I've broken my addiction. I just hope you won't have given up on me by then."

He watched her go with a sinking heart, heard the door downstairs close with a quiet _click_. Swearing vulgarly, he threw himself back down on the bed, despising himself and Roy Anderson, in equal measures.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Pam drove to Roy's favorite burger place, willing herself to go numb, despite her stuttering heart and tear drenched face. She attempted to put out of her mind the frigid way Jim had spoken to her, had avoided her eyes, not blaming him a bit for his feelings. Hell, she was just as miserable as he was, and what was worse, she was doing it to both of them. She drove through and got their food, then hurried home.

Roy had been spending a lot of time sleeping because of the pain meds, claiming his arm hurt, so she was quiet when she unlocked the front door. She'd just stepped inside when she heard Kenny's loud voice coming clearly down the hall from Roy's bedroom. She supposed she'd been so upset, so concerned about getting back to Roy, that she hadn't noticed Kenny's pickup in the apartment complex lot. She was walking to the kitchen when she began paying attention to their conversation.

"Yeah, well she's probably with Halpert right now, fucking his brains out," Roy was saying. Pam stilled, but her heart picked up speed.

"Then why the hell are you still with her, man? You told me at the bar the other night before you totaled your truck that you'd dumped her. I don't get why you're having second thoughts if the bitch is whoring around on you. I kept my mouth shut in the hospital, thinking you might have changed your mind and wanted her back, but I can't keep lying if she's cheating on you, Roy."

Pam gasped. _He remembered the night of the accident_. As did Kenny, the bastard, so they'd both lied about Roy's memory loss in the hospital, had let her believe he'd forgotten about their fight on the phone, their breakup. Naturally, Roy had lied to Kenny as well, conveniently omitting the part where _she_ had broken up with him, where he'd accused her of cheating when he was the one who'd done it months before.

"Well, she's a prettier nurse than Mom is," Roy said, and they both laughed.

Anger roiled within her, accompanied by an eerie, outward calm. She sat down at the table and methodically unwrapped and took a big bite of her burger, realizing as she chewed that she was starving, her appetite back for the first time in days. In that moment, that burger was the best thing she'd ever tasted, because it tasted a whole hell of a lot like freedom. She would finish her dinner, go to her room, and pack up her stuff. She would go back to Jim's if he would have her, to Isabel's if he wouldn't, then figure out how to get Jim to give her another chance.

The brothers continued to talk in boisterous tones about other things, especially when Roy turned up the basketball game on the bedroom TV. Finished with her own meal, Pam went to the cupboard, took down a plate, and loaded it with Roy's burger, dumped out his order of fries around it, liberally pouring the ketchup over them, just like he liked it. With a deep breath, she carried the plate down the hall and into his room.

"There you are," said Roy. "What happened, honey, did you get lost?"

"Yep, I've been totally lost for the last ten years."

And with that, she dumped his plate in his lap. He jumped up, cussing and yelling at her for being a klutz, ketchup staining his blanket, fries scattering everywhere. She wished she had the time to sketch the scene as a still life.

"Enjoy your dinner, you lying asshole," she said calmly. "And yes, Jim _was _totally fucking my brains out, and it was the best sex I've ever had. But I wasn't cheating, I'm sure you remember, because I'd already broken up with you last week, you bastard. Kenny, I hope you don't mind pulling down your brother's pants so he can pee, because I'm officially resigning from that rewarding job."

"Pam, what the hell?" Roy said, seeing his worst nightmare coming true. "You can't just leave me like this!"

He was trying awkwardly to get out of bed, throwing off the ruined food in his lap with his one good hand. Kenny jumped back from the bed, fearing the staining power of the errant ketchup; for once, shocked into silence.

Pam had pulled her suitcase from the closet, busying herself filling it with clothes and shoes for work before grabbing a few toiletries from the master bathroom.

"You can always call your mommy," said Pam conversationally. "I'll come back for the rest of my things later, when you're safely in jail. Till then, don't call me, don't text me, don't try to see me, because I never want to see _you_ again."

Roy was angry now. "When I get my arm back, your lover boy Halpert's a dead man."

Pam stopped on her way out of the doorway of the bedroom they'd shared the past three years, ever since they'd gotten engaged. She turned back to her ex-fiancé, blood red fury in her eyes. Then, from the deepest part of her, where she'd buried the years of covering for him, of looking the other way, of withstanding every slight and betrayal, something finally broke free, giving her a courage she'd never known she had.

"You touch one hair on Jim's head and I'll ruin you, do you hear me? I have enough shit on you that when I start talking, no one will ever hire you, no one will want to be your friend. I'll see to it that even Kenny here hates you, given the stuff you've lied to _him_ about. And I'd really hate to disillusion your sweet mother that her baby boy isn't the angel she always thought you were. Think really hard about what you do next, Roy, because you know I can back up everything I say right now."

She didn't stick around for his rejoinder, but, grabbing her purse and coat, she pulled her suitcase out of the apartment and out of her old life.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think.**


	8. Conclusion and Epilogue

**Chapter 8: Conclusion/Epilogue**

Pam's first instinct, of course, was to drive to Jim's, but then she remembered how they'd left things, so she drove toward Isabel's instead. He'd been understandably angry that she seemed to have chosen Roy over him…again. To some degree he'd been right, but not for the reasons he thought.

She'd still been dealing with guilt where Roy was concerned, even though, as it turned out, he'd done even more crappy things than she'd suspected. She had blamed herself for his accident because he'd gotten drunk because of her. She should have done the proper thing and broken up with him in person, not in an angry tantrum over the phone.

She'd devoted ten years of her life to the man; just leaving him, helpless and impaired, to fend for himself, was not something she could live with—well, before tonight. She supposed Jim understood her taking care of Roy on some level, but she totally didn't blame him for expecting her to wash her hands of Roy completely, given what Jim had witnessed himself of her ex's behavior—not to mention the fact that she'd slept with Jim on two separate occasions now.

Yes, Roy probably deserved her anger and worse, but Pam just wasn't the vengeful type—at least she hadn't used to be. And she smirked now through her tears, remembering the ketchup mess she'd left him with. He'd looked like a gunshot victim. It really had felt damn good to do _something, _and she ached to share her proud moment with Jim_._

But would he appreciate it now? Or would he tell her he'd told her so, talk to her coldly like he had before she'd left his house earlier? Maybe his patience had finally found its limits. Maybe, after finally getting her into bed, he'd realized she and her baggage hadn't been worth it. Especially since she hadn't even told him she was in love with him.

_God, Pam, _she said to herself_, _as she drove on to the warm welcome of her cousin_. How could you be so stupid, so blind? What man would put up with all this drama?_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three beers in, Jim sat in front of the TV with Mark, unable to focus on that night's March Madness game, even though he had money riding on it with Kevin and Toby. He just couldn't stop thinking about what had happened with Pam, and he felt sick to his stomach, wondering if his jealousy and impatience had ruined everything.

Mark's sudden yell at the screen made Jim jump, and his roommate turned to him in excitement.

"Did you see that, man? What the hell is that ref thinking?"

Jim made a noncommittal grunt, and Mark looked sharply at him. "Are you even paying attention? I thought you had twenty bucks on this game."

"Sorry, my mind's somewhere else."

With a long-suffering sigh, Mark muted the TV.

"Let me guess: _Pam_."

Jim shrugged, took a swig from his bottle, tasting nothing. "I think I totally fucked things up with her." He was embarrassed to feel his eyes welling up.

He'd filled Mark in on most of what had happened on their trip, then about Roy's accident, and while he knew Mark was rooting for him, having been Jim's sounding board on all things Pam the past three years, he also knew Jim's penchant for self-sabotage.

"What did you do?"

"I basically told her she was picking Roy over me. Well, not in so many words—she read me loud and clear though. I wasn't very sensitive about it either. God, I'm such an idiot!" He slammed down his beer, Mark wincing at the sound and the mark the bottle would probably leave on the table.

"Hey, she's given you mixed signals for years; I don't blame you for being pissed."

Jim was tempted to defend her, but he was too mentally exhausted to make the effort. And besides, he thought guiltily, he was sort of right. Jim got up to get another beer, wishing they had something more potent in the house, but after two more, Jim fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep on the couch. He awoke the next morning to find that Mark had thrown a blanket over him. _The old softie_, Jim thought with a grin, before the events of the last few days flooded back and he frowned sadly.

Jim reached for his phone where he'd left it on the coffee table, disappointed to find no missed calls or waiting texts. He thought fleetingly of skipping work, but with Pam home taking care of Roy, there wouldn't be a point in hiding. Besides, he'd go crazy sitting at home dwelling on what he'd lost. Head aching, more from the awkward sleeping position on the too-short couch than a hangover, he got up and sighed in resignation on the way to the shower.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he pulled into the office building parking lot, his heart stuttered, then picked up speed when he saw Pam's car in her usual spot. She wasn't in the car waiting for him, so she must be upstairs. But why? As he rode up the elevator with Stanley and Kevin, he didn't allow himself to hope what this meant.

"I guess I owe you ten bucks," said Kevin sheepishly just before the elevator stopped on the second floor.

"Oh, uh, really? I didn't watch the second half. Fell asleep on the couch."

"You're kidding me," said Kevin. "That was an awesome game, even if I lost."

Jim vaguely remembered Mark doing a lot of yelling and griping, but Jim had been too wrapped up in his own misery to pay attention.

"We get paid tomorrow, then I can pay you."

"Sure," said Jim. "Whenever, Kev."

"Unless you want double or nothing on tonight's game…"

Jim chuckled as the doors slid open. "Okay. Deal. But I hate to keep taking your hard-earned money."

"You won't, if you take Boston again."

Jim knew the odds weren't in his favor, but it was a family tradition to back Boston in all things. "I'll take my chances."

Pam was sitting at her desk, and looked up as the trio came in, her eyes involuntarily catching Jim's before she blushed and looked away.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully, and the other two men gave her a polite reply.

Jim took his time hanging up his coat, giving his coworkers time to get well away.

"Hey," he said, advancing on Pam's desk. "I'm surprised to see you here."

She looked around nervously, afraid their conversation might be overheard by coworkers or the doc crew. Sure enough, Angela frowned in disapproval as she walked past them on her way in, but the doc crew was still setting up for the day.

"Let's talk at lunch," she said softly, still not looking at him straight on. "Somewhere else."

Jim nodded, though his whole body seemed to be shaking. This didn't bode well for the surge of hope he'd felt in the parking lot earlier.

"My car. Noon." When his words came out clipped and bossy, he modified them with: "Please?"

"Okay," and she met held his gaze for the first time that morning, a tinge of humor there.

Feeling somewhat relieved and hopeful once more, he smiled back, then went to his desk.

The morning trudged by, and much like the night before, he barely remembered any of it. He went through the motions of making and receiving calls, filling out order forms, even interacting with Dwight. But he couldn't have repeated the details of the day if his life had depended on it. Fortunately for him and Pam, there was some Ryan and Kelly drama that the documentarians could focus on, so since he and Pam seemed to be busy doing their work, the crew basically ignored them.

At 11:58, he got up, grabbed his suit coat from the back of his chair, and bolted for the door, taking the stairs down in order to burn some of his nervous energy and avoid the cameras. He waited in his car an agonizing ten minutes before she came, slipping quickly into the passenger side with an awkward "Hi."

He started the car and drove out of the parking lot before her seatbelt was fully buckled. His mind was racing, and he knew that if his heart was about to be torn from his chest, he didn't want it to happen in a restaurant or some other busy public place.

"How about the park?" she suggested, reading his mind.

"Yeah," he said gratefully. He drove to the park a few blocks down the road.

It was the warmest day of the year so far, in the upper sixties, and the playground area was filled with pre-school aged children and their parents or chaperones, so Jim parked on the other side of the park, near a shaded picnic area beneath newly budding trees. When they got out of the car, he took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of fresh green grass and blooming flowers. He was surprised that it actually helped calm him.

"I love spring," Pam said, squinting up at the warm sun before taking a cleansing breath of her own.

"Yeah," he replied. He was more of an autumn person, but he liked the reprieve of the welcome warmth and vivid greenness that replaced the drabness of winter.

Halfway to the picnic tables, Pam touched his arm and he abruptly stopped.

"Are you still mad at me?" she asked in a small voice.

He turned to look at her, the glint of the sun off her golden curls almost painfully beautiful to him. He couldn't help but admire her creamy complexion, whimsically sprinkled with freckles, a touch of rose in her cheeks; but it was her eyes, pale green in the afternoon light, that nearly did him in.

"Yes," he said, but he smiled, because the anger had fully drained from his body in the presence of her ethereal beauty. He could never be mad at her for long, he realized, and no matter what became of them, she would always hold his heart (among other parts) in her small, white hands. It made his smile widen to think of it.

She grinned shyly back, relief evident in the relaxation of her cardigan clad shoulders.

"I wouldn't blame you if you were. But you have to understand, Jim, I thought in my heart I was doing the right thing."

His weekend of hell returned to him full force, and he had to get a few things off his chest or he might truly go insane. He was glad when his words came out sounding more frustrated than angry.

"How could you go back to him, after we—we made love, after I told you how I feel? I don't get it Pam. His mom could have helped him. Hell, Kenny could have pulled down his freakin' pants for him! How could you-?"

"I was wrong," she interrupted. "I was a fool, and you called it. I wish I'd listened to you, but I couldn't see doing it any other way. God, I feel so stupid!"

Well, that took the wind from his sails. "Wait—what? How exactly did I _call it?"_

She looked down at the soft grass beneath her feet. "He was faking it. The memory loss. I came home last night with his dinner, and I-I heard him and Kenny talking about it. He was manipulating me to stay there, hoping to get me back. So you called it, like I said, and I chose to take his word over yours. Can you ever forgive me?"

Jim felt the earth shift beneath his feet, felt suddenly unbalanced, dizzy with a mix of overwhelming love and gratitude and relief. But anger had returned too, this time at Roy, and his fists clenched with the strong desire to find the asshole and punch his lights out. But he forced himself to take another breath, to try to steady himself against the onslaught of helpless emotions. He made himself stand still, despite the spinning of the world. He swallowed hard, summoning his courage to reply honestly to her question.

"That depends…do you love me, Pam? Can you say it? Can you choose me, and only me, once and for all? Because I don't know if I—"

But his words were cut off by her mouth on his, and for a moment he was paralyzed. Then her hands slid purposefully into his hair, and she took advantage of his dropped jaw to tiptoe up and slip her tongue into his mouth. With a helpless moan, he finally kissed her back, holding her as closely as he could, trying to blot out the pain of the last few days with the healing power of her soft lips.

They separated for breath, and he buried his face in her soft curls.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Me too." He stepped back to look at her, still determined to get what he needed from her for this to continue. "Please, Pam. If you feel it, you have to say it out loud, or I won't believe it. I've been living for the fantasy of us being together, but I want this to be real; I _need_ this to be real."

She was flushed from the sun and his kisses, and his words made her heart flutter with fear. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw no sign of rejection there, only hope. No expectation of anything from her except her love, given freely.

_Well_, thought Pam, _I'm ready to give him that._

She felt the tears stinging her eyes, the emotion bubbling up from deep inside of her. She looked into his handsome face, his expression adoring, and her lips trembled over the words she'd told only one other man her entire life.

"I'm in love with you," she said quietly. "I think I have been for a long time, but I've been too afraid, too tied to the life I thought I wanted since I was a girl. But it's you I want now. Since the day we met, it's been like fate, and I tried so hard to resist it. But no more. I love you," she said, her voice stronger with the conviction of her words and the joy in his eyes. "I can't even begin to tell you how much."

His hands went reverently to her cheeks, and he smiled as brightly as she'd ever seen. "I love you too," he said simply, feeling his own tears at the wonder of knowing at last that his love was requited.

He captured her mouth, sealing the bargain. A few more blissful minutes passed as they kissed in the sun, the fineness of the spring day seeping into them, filling them with warmth from the inside out.

Jim's growling stomach broke the spell, and they both laughed at its insistence.

"Stay here," she said, giving him one more smacking kiss, before she ran back to the car in her pristine white Keds. He followed her with his eyes, shaking his head at the turn the day had taken, before closing his eyes and turning his face to the sun, basking in the perfection of this moment. She returned quickly, a familiar paper sack in one hand, a plastic grocery bag in the other, the old blanket he kept in his back seat during the winter months bundled under her arm.

"Here," she said, holding out the paper sack. "I took a moment to run to the office fridge and get our lunches." He hadn't even noticed them when she'd gotten into the car earlier. Ignoring the nearby picnic tables, she spread out the blanket on the grass, sharing the unspoken desire to soak up the sun's welcome rays.

He smiled at her forethought, then folded his long legs beneath him, settling by her on the blanket as she unpacked her grocery sack.

"I stopped by a convenience store on my way to work," she explained. "Isabel had nothing to eat in her apartment but an old frozen pizza and Chunky Monkey ice cream."

She took out a pre-packaged chicken salad sandwich, an orange, Sun Chips, and two familiar grape sodas from the office vending machine. This, he realized, was why she'd been ten minutes late earlier.

They traded halves of each of their sandwiches, and he shared his carrot sticks, she her Sun Chips and part of her orange, and both of them secretly thought it was the best meal they'd ever eaten. They spoke very little, given the sudden renewal of their appetites, sharing smiles and feeding each other orange sections and baby carrots. Every once in a while, he leaned over and kissed her between bites of sandwich or sips of soda.

When they were finished, he lay on his back on the blanket, knees bent, hands folded on his full belly, head turned to look at her as she lay down beside him.

"Thanks for thinking of lunch," he said. "It was honestly the last thing on my mind until my stomach spoke up." He hadn't felt up to eating breakfast that morning.

She smiled. "I hoped things might turn out this way, that you would be able to find it in your heart to forgive me."

"Always. I'm just glad I didn't ruin everything for good."

"We've both done things we regret, I guess. But I really want to put it all behind us, start over again. You think that's possible?"

"Definitely," he said, and he reached down to hold her hand, pressing their palms together on the blanket between them.

They closed their eyes, enjoying the sun, almost dozing before Pam spoke again.

"What would you think about another road trip?"

"Hm?" he replied lazily.

"Someplace warm, where I could put my feet in the sand. Where we could be alone, away from all this, to focus on each other…"

"That sounds nice."

"Really?" She opened her eyes and turned excitedly to look at him.

Feeling her gaze upon him, the shifting of the blanket, he opened one eye in amusement. "My family has a beach house in Florida; it's co-owned by my dad and his brothers. We used to go every summer when I was a kid. It'll take us a couple of days to drive there though."

Her face lit up. "That sounds perfect! You think we could? I've never been to Florida."

"Sure. I was going to go to Australia in June, but I guess I could change my plans."

The implications of this occurred to Pam, and she remembered, what seemed like a lifetime ago, how hurt she'd been that he wasn't going to be at her wedding. Sensing her abrupt change in mood, Jim sat up a little, his head blocking out the sun as he hovered over her. She looked up at him, her face filled with regret at what might have been.

"Hey, ancient history, remember?" he soothed. "I don't want to go halfway around the world anymore, at least not by myself. There's nothing I need to escape from. As a matter of fact, I just want to be wherever you are, whether it's in the beautiful metropolis of Scranton, in a Best Western in Nashua, or on the sandy white beaches of Florida."

She chuckled. "The beautiful metropolis…?"

"Don't mock me, Beesly, but from where I'm sitting, Scranton looks pretty damned beautiful today, don't you think?" But he wasn't looking at the signs of spring all around them, and coincidentally, neither was she.

She reached up to touch his warm cheek. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

He lowered his lips to hers, kissing her lazily, but with a building fever that he had to work very hard to contain, given the distant sounds of children playing. It took everything in him not to cover her body with his, to make love to her with all the longing that had built up over the long, horrendous weekend, not to mention the last three years.

"The house in Florida has a private beach," he whispered into her ear, and he was rewarded by her shiver of desire. "Rain check?"

"Yes, please," she said, before he sweetly kissed her once more.

They were very late getting back from lunch, but Jim gladly took the demerit Dwight so assiduously wrote up for him. As a matter of fact, he considered having it framed.

**THE END**

**_Epilogue_**

Roy was sentenced to three months in Lackawanna County Prison, plus a five-hundred dollar fine and mandatory enrollment upon release in some sort of alcohol counseling program. During his second week behind bars, he had a visitor. The guard told him on his way to the visitor's room that it was some guy named Darryl, so imagine his surprise when he saw Jim Halpert sitting at the metal picnic table.

His first reaction was anger, but that quickly gave way to fear. _Was there something wrong with Pam? _Of course, everyone at Dunder Mifflin knew that Pam had dumped him for the smartass salesman, and the guys at the warehouse were all too happy to give him the bad news. They were still pissed at him for being fired, leaving them short a driver and two strong arms to load the trucks. Some friends they turned out to be.

"Halpert," he fairly snarled, taking his place on the bench seat across from him. "What the fuck do _you_ want?"

"Orange is a good color on you," remarked Jim. With all the guards around, he wasn't afraid to bait the bear a little.

"You're lucky my arm's still in a cast, or I'd beat your head in right now, asshole, jail or no jail."

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, I guess this does make me seem a little cowardly to you, but frankly, I don't give a shit. No, I'm actually here to warn you, Roy. See, I know what you did to Pam, and I'm not just talking about faking amnesia. She told me all about how you've cheated on her, not to mention all the times over the years I had to listen to her cry over some shitty thing you said or did to her. And hey, I stood by, being a good friend, gave her a shoulder to cry on—"

"Yeah, I'll bet it was more than a _shoulder_," he sneered suggestively. "You've been sniffing around my property for years, don't deny it."

"Oh, I'm not," Jim conceded. "But for the record, she never cheated on you, much as you deserved it. No, I waited patiently for you to screw up enough on your own that she would finally see the light and leave your sorry ass. But I'm not here to discuss the past; I'm here to give you a polite warning, about the future."

"Aw, so you're threatening me now. A real pussy move, surrounded by guards and metal bars. But go ahead, Halpert, let's hear it. I've been needing a good laugh in this joint."

From his suit coat pocket, Jim casually retrieved a familiar envelope, addressed to Pam in Roy's childish scrawl. It was unopened. He slid it across the table to the inmate without a word of explanation. Roy focused on it, and Jim ignored the brief flash of pain in the big man's eyes.

When Roy glanced up from the letter, Jim looked straight into his blue eyes, the salesman's face a mask of deadly determination.

"When you get out of here," Jim began, his voice low and threatening, "if you try to see her, or call her, or hell, send something by carrier pigeon, I will hunt you down and beat the living shit out of you, do you hear me?"

"Ha. You and what army?"

"Oh, it'll just be me. See, unlike you, I appreciate what I have, and I'll do anything to protect her. Face facts, man: you lost her, threw away the most perfect person on the planet because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants or hold your liquor. I made the mistake long ago of not fighting for her, of not saving her from a bastard like you. And news flash: she doesn't love you anymore; she loves _me_. And there's absolutely nothing you can do about it."

Jim wasn't surprised to see the anger boiling just below the surface of Roy's large frame. "When I get out of here, I won't be going back for that tramp, I'll be coming for you, asshole, so I'd watch my back if I were you."

Jim rose, hoping his anger and hatred outshone how much he was shaking inside. "Bring it on. Just stay the fuck away from Pam."

As he walked back toward the exit, he didn't see Roy grab the letter and stuff it morosely into his jumpsuit pocket. No, Jim was too busy being proud of himself for fighting for Pam at last, for fighting for their future.

**A/N: Thanks for reading. I'd love to have your review.**


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